One Painkiller or Two
by WolfButler
Summary: Can the Fowls go anywhere without something injury-inducing happening? Apparently not. Expect the usual beatings from and to Butler, along with the sense of humor that goes with it. I swear one of the genres used to be Action... Drama will have to do.
1. Public Transport

_**One Painkiller or Two**_

_**Disclaimer:- Nope. Don't own any Artemis Fowl characters. Eoin Colfer does, so ask him if you want to change it so that The Major has an afro :D**_

_**Well here we go - I'll let you be the judges on whether it lives up to the last one. **_

_**Expect the usual beatings from and to Butler, along with the sense of humor that goes with it.**_

__

**Enjoy.****

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 1 - Public Transport**

The Major swore under his breath.

"Is something the matter, Major?" Artemis Fowl the First asked, somewhat irritably. He had been waiting a whole minuet and he and his family still hadn't got into the car. His bodyguard had already completed his bomb check and had even entered the vehicle, yet they were still waiting for the younger Butler to open the door. "Come on, man. At least open the damn door we're freezing half to death here."

"Just a moment, sir. Sorry for the delay."

Outwardly, Butler was as respectful as expected, yet inwardly he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the exaggeration. Yes, it was December - and it was late on a clear night, but the chilly drafts and breath-fogging air were hardly Arctic conditions.

They had been at a dinner, celebrating. If it could be called that. Bodyguards didn't celebrate very often, especially not these two particular bodyguards. Christmas, and the opening of a new business Fowl Senior was funding were the occasions. Nevertheless, the meal had been good, or at least not poisoned, the drink had flowed (rather too much of it in some people's cases) and the atmosphere had been a relaxed and inviting one, at least for those not sitting in the eyeline of a watchful Butler.

In Butler's opinion, _too much_ had gone right, to be honest.

_Juliet would accuse you of never being happy with anything,_ he thought to himself, scanning the area in case their luck should suddenly change. On the way out, the corridor was too narrow for his liking, loud, happy people jostled the small group. Those that made contact were neither noisy or cheerful for long.

Back by the car, The Major clicked his tongue against his teeth thoughtfully and popped the bonnet, disappearing behind it as he inspected the engine.

Mr. Fowl clenched his fists and counted to ten in his head. Apparently anger was bad for one's blood pressure and, unlike the majority of the attendees of the meal, he had had a rather stressful night, composed mostly of interviews and conversations involving numbers and statistics. As soon as it was polite to do so, he had excused himself and family from the event, thinking longingly of the plush double-bed back at the Manor. Yet now they were standing outside the building at twelve at night while his bodyguard fretted over the car. His son was almost falling asleep, leaning on his own bodyguard's leg and his wife was playing with her pearl necklace, nervously clicking the shining beads together in an increasingly annoying fashion. Not that anyone was willing to tell her that.

"Well?" he snapped at his manservant.

"It's the engine. It won't start, sir."

"Well then fix it!"

"Timmy dear, try to calm down, darling. It's not as though it's anyone's fault."

"Oh do be quiet, Angeline!"

His wife shook her head gently and turned to stroking her son's hair. To her disappointment he didn't suddenly turn away from the tree-trunk-like limb he was slouched against and embrace her for her love. She was beginning to worry that her little Arty was becoming a little _too_ like his father.

The Major tinkered with something and tried the engine again. It didn't even cough. Slamming the driver's side door with slightly more force than necessary, the giant returned to bending double over the Bentley's engine.

"For heavens sake, man. Is the car fixable or not?" Artemis Senior was beginning to lose patience.

The Major jerked upright, thwacking his shaven crown on the carpeted underside of the bonnet. Refraining from using any more profanities in the presence of his employers, The Major breathed deeply and answered with his usual curt professionalism.

"Apologies for the inconvenience, sir. I just need to check the carburettor..."

"Don't give me mechanics, Major. Give me results!"

_Right. That's it,_ The Major fumed. He too, had had to sit through the same number of discussions as his charge and check every single idiot that wanted to shake the infamous Fowl Senior's hand. He was not in the best of moods and now this infernal vehicle had decided that this exact moment would be a tremendous time to stop working. Letting the Fowls into the car would probably be a smart idea, but he couldn't until he was sure that the reason the engine wouldn't start was only mechanical and not a malignant addition to the engine's workings.

"You!" he spat in the general direction of the near-identical man standing in the shadows. "Stop standing there like a stuffed animal and help me, damn it!"

This time, Butler did roll his eyes in the darkness. Typical that he should bear the brunt of his uncle's employer-induced temper. He leant his charge gently towards Mrs. Fowl and hung his jacket over the roof of the Bentley, joining his uncle at the open bonnet.

There was a few minuets of contemplation, during which the Major forced his nephew to reach right into the innards of the car, getting covered in oil in the process and ultimately achieving nothing.

"The lighting situation isn't helping matters," Butler muttered irritably, looking for a cloth to wipe his hands on. There wasn't one and he wondered about using his shirt. It wasn't as though he had a shortage of them, although it _would_ be nice to return with one he could reuse for once.

"Well then go get a torch," his uncle snapped, shoving him aside and plunging a hand into the machinery, trying to see whether it was causing the problem in the light from the lonely streetlight above.

"We may be here a while. Would you like to wait in the car?" Butler asked, searching the cavernous boot of the Bentley.

"I believe that would be desirable." Mr. Fowl sniffed. Butler was about to return to the front of the vehicle when he realised the reason the Fowls were still standing there.

_For Pete's sake can't you see we're busy? _he thought, opening the door anyway. A large oily print stained the silver car. _Oh for..._ he breathed deeply and tried not to think about the amount of polishing it would take to remove that mark.

"For god's sake how long does it take to walk the length of a car, boy?"

"Coming," _You impatient..._Butler finished his mental description colourfully and handed the high powered torch over.

It was slightly warmer than the outside, Artemis thought gratefully. Although the heaters and lights won't work without input from the engine, he concluded.

Consequently, they were forced to sit in the darkness, cuddled together for warmth. Well, not exactly cuddled. More huddled. Two of them rather unwillingly.

"Well, my darlings, I know this isn't the nicest of situations, but we have to make the best of it. I mean, at least we're all ok, if a little uncomfortable."

Her son nodded absently, staring out the windscreen at the glimpses of shiny scalps he could catch every now and then. If his father would let him, he would like to have a look at the engine himself. He wasn't an expert mechanic but maybe he could help - at least more than sitting here between his parents.

"Honestly Angeline, you needn't bother yourself attempting to keep up an optimistic view on things."

"Well I _am_ an optimist, unlike some people," she huffed.

Artemis closed his eyes and tried to ignore the conversation. It was going to be a long night.

"What is _wrong_ with this _damn _vehicle?" The Major growled and slapped the fender. It popped in an alarmingly dent-producing-like manner and he winced slightly at the idea of paying for the repair of such damage.

Butler attempted to wipe off some of the grease that had somehow migrated from his arms to his face, before he answered what was probably a rhetorical question anyway.

"I don't know, uncle. It was running fine on the way up," Butler peered in the darkness at the silent engine, lighting up a small circle with the torch and frowning at it as though he could threaten it into action.

"It doesn't seem to be anything we can sort here."

"For once you're right," his uncle admitted grudgingly.

"And I suppose we're not going anywhere soon, so..." Butler let the statement hang hopefully, knowing if he suggested a possible solution, it would probably never happen.

"Right," The Major said grimly, heading to the back of the car with about as much willingness as he would apply when approaching a suspicious, and possibly explosive, object.

"Plan?" Butler asked, shutting the lid of the car since it seemed that there was nothing short of replacing the engine that would get the Bentley working again.

"To convince the master we need to find another means of transport, else we're going to be here all night."

Butler leant gently on the wheel rim, hand resting inside his jacket on the comfortably familiar shape of his Sig Sauer. He had known that the night had been too faultless. Now he'd wrecked another shirt for nothing and they were sat like... well, like sitting ducks for any competent assassin to blow up. He caught snatches of the conversation behind him and was glad that he wasn't a part of it.

"Honestly, man. I thought they at least taught you basic mechanics at..." The admonishment.

"...it would seem that..." The explanation.

"Well of course..." The scepticism.

"...I could..." The suggestion.

"Surely there's another..." The utter disbelief.

"... for the best..." The excuse.

"Well if you're absolutely certain..." The reluctant agreement.

"I cannot believe it's come to _this_. It's _disgraceful_," muttered Fowl Senior as The Major was rummaging for his mobile phone.

The decision had been made to call... a taxi.

It took a few minuets to find a company number, but eventually the vehicle was booked.

"Commoners' transport. Unbelievable," Mr. Fowl got out of the car, still muttering away to himself.

"There, there, dear," Mrs. Fowl said, as she too stood beside the shining vehicle, nervously patting her husband's arm. "I'm sure it'll be fine..."

It shouldn't have been an irritation, he knew, but her husband still blew his top.

"Don't be absurd, woman! If any of my acquaintances found out what has happened here tonight I'd be a laughing stock! Not only are we sat in our vehicle half an hour after announcing our departure, the best these two imbeciles can come up with for transport is a preposterous solution. I, that is to say we, the _Fowls_, do _not_ travel in public taxi cabs!"

Butler gritted his teeth. For all he cared he could piggy-back them all home. Unfortunately, voicing his opinion would be a very bad idea indeed. Fortunately, someone did for him. In an uncharacteristic burst of indignant astonishment Mrs. Fowl let rip at her spouse.

"Artemis, _stop_ this nonsense immediately. You really are being petty. A car is a car and we shall be home before long. And as for your associates I do not care what they wish to believe. This whole thing is simply an unfortunate turn of circumstance, entirely unavoidable and no-body's fault. Especially not the Butlers. If you can't see that perhaps you should take a nice long walk, let's say, towards home, to figure that out!" Her eyes burned angrily and she folded her arms, the very picture of a stern, and angry, mother.

Artemis Junior looked up in surprise at her reaction. His father gaped for a moment before closing his mouth with a snap.

"Apologies, gentlemen. Angeline is correct. This is simply an untoward occurrence and I have no right to project my frustrations onto you."

Butler nodded an acceptance absently, barely listening to the rarity that was a Fowl apology. He may have agreed with most of what Angeline had said but he had far too much experience to pass off this turn of events as a coincidence. There was no such thing in the world of a bodyguard.

Unfortunately, the six-seater van was already out on hire for a hen-night so they would be forced to order _two_ cabs and travel separately. Another thing The Major wasn't happy with about this whole cursed situation. At one point in the ('foolishly long' as Mr. Fowl put it - quietly) wait for the taxi, a loud explosion had both bodyguards, guns drawn, leaping to protect their charges from... a firework. Someone's late Bonfire Night celebrations convinced Butler that he had been right about this evening. He hoped that this was where the bad luck was going to end. Of course you should never hope for something like that.

As if it _could _get any worse, it took nearly twenty minuets for the first taxi to arrive and even then there were only enough seats for a maximum of four of them to go.

"Are you coming, dear?" Artemis Senior asked, with a certain air of meekness about him, once The Major had thoroughly checked (and terrified) the driver of the cab.

"I think I should wait here with Arty, Timmy. He's awfully tired..." Angeline said firmly, unwilling to both leave her son or relinquish her temporary control over her husband.

"Send him with me then." Artemis Senior beckoned his weary son rather impatiently. "Come on son, the meter is running - or whatever they use to charge ridiculous amounts for travelling in these vehicles."

Butler's self-control was tested as he refrained from snorting at the irony of the statement. As if a few notes would make a difference to the multi-billionaire. Even if the driver decided to follow the longest route he could think of, the cost wouldn't even be remotely comparable to the price the head of the Fowl family had paid for the_ tie_ he was wearing tonight.

"No thank-you, Father. If it's acceptable with you, I'd rather remain with Mother for now," Artemis Junior stifled a yawn. The evening had not been as exciting as he hoped, and he did not wish to spend the next half and hour discussing the dreary events with his father.

The Major breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He had been dreading having to explain to his boss that the young heir would have to stay behind, as Butler was the one responsible for him and so must be at his side at all times as he had to for the older Artemis. Besides, even if it was feasible to leave Mrs. Fowl behind alone, it would mean cramming two Butlers into one small cab - something that would only ever be amusing in the set-up to a bad joke.

"Very well. The next taxi should be less than ten minuets. And if it isn't, inform me immediately," Mr. Fowl hid his unexpected disappointment at his son's rejection by slamming the cab door. His manservant followed, with a look towards his nephew that translated exactly to the younger bodyguard as _"Watch yourself. And more importantly, watch the Fowls."_

* * *

_**Well. There we go, Chappie 1.**_

_**Go on, tell me what you think. It might make me update quicker. **_

_***snort***_

_**OK it probably won't. But you can pretend it will if you want, and it would make me feel good too. You know, give and take here.**_

_**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**_

_**(P.S Finally, here it is Beck, it's been a long time coming - I know. But I said before Christmas and here we are, eh?)**_


	2. Sons, Screams and A&E

_**Sons, Screams, and A&E**_

_**Anyone recognise the title?**_

_**Yeah it's got nothing to do with the TV program. I'm just watching too much day-time TV when I should be doing work...**_

_**Ah well.**_

_**Seems I'm putting up this solely for Steinbock at the moment it seems.**_

_**Come on guys I know you're all busy Christmas shopping and all that, but come on. Give us a shout please?**_

* * *

CHAPTER 2 - Sons, Screams and A&E

Soon the remaining Fowls were back in the rear of the car, sheltering from the cold, while the remaining Butler stood outside in it, jacket back on now, his eyes flitting to the shadows with their usual suspicious sharpness.

The fireworks had ended, probably because the police had popped round to remind the party-throwers of the firework curfew they had just broken and the fine they'd be receiving because of it. Not that Butler was in a position to be disapproving of those on the wrong side of the law. Not that he minded being in that position either. Laws were often just daft rules put in place to keep everyday civilians in check and hinder everyone else's business, in his opinion. Although, those whose dealings laws did mess with, were often not to be messed with themselves. A reputation Mr. Fowl boasted these days, despite his wife's disapproval.

Butler kept an eye on the street. It was empty. Not even a group of chavs on the corner to break the quiet. Shadows loomed around the bases of the buildings like long, trailing cloaks. He scowled into them, trying to put a name to any of the rough outlines he could see.

He could have sworn he had just seen someone.

But it was late, and he was probably just tired.

_Never ignore suspicions,_ the voice in his head told him.

_And don't get obsessed by them either._

Still, when a noxiously yellow cab drew up, Butler found himself sighing with relief.

"Mrs. Fowl? The taxi has arrived," Butler spoke over his shoulder into the dimness of the car. Not turning his back on the suspicious shadows, he opened the car door and kept his wide frame between his charges and the darkness. The elegant woman rose sleepily and shook Artemis into a more secure state of consciousness.

Butler double-checked their surroundings. His senses were tingling. The soldier sixth ones. The ones that were never wrong.

Something was about to happen. A not very good thing either, if he was right.

There, by the almost overflowing skip. A shadow moved in a way that shadows don't. At least not unless someone was casting them.

"Could you get in the taxi now, please," Butler's tone was a little too sharp for Angeline's liking.

"Do you mind?" she said, shocked, gathering up both her son and her dress and stepping out into the chilly night air.

"Sorry, m'am," Butler muttered, rather quickly guiding her and his charge towards the waiting cab and turning to face the shadows once more. There was a rustle of movement. And suddenly a brick flew through the air. Training that had been repeated so often it had become pure instinct stepped in and Butler towered over the Fowls, bundling them into the car. Roughly, but it certainly beat getting brained by a brick. He caught the missile on his shoulder. It bounced off as though made of rubber, sailing in an arc eventually landing on the windscreen of the taxi and thoroughly confirming that it wasn't simply a bouncy cuboid when the glass shattered with a bang.

Mrs Fowl screamed. And then everything happened at once.

A group of men ran forward, some wielding planks of wood, others knives. Butler closed the cab door on the Fowl's alarmed faces and settled into a defensive position, hand reaching towards his gun holster as the men circled. The group was probably just a gang of vandals out for a night of mugging, but you could never be too careful.

"Where's Fowl?" one asked, spitting onto the tarmac. Alright, perhaps _not_ just the local layabouts then.

"Gone. He left." Butler told them, weighing up his options. It would be dangerous to use a gun with this many people as the opposition - despite being in such an open space. Even the best marksman could hit something they shouldn't in a dark street and he didn't particularly want anyone to die on his behalf today. At least not without good cause. However - seriously injured? Yeah why not? As long as it was one of them. It would have to be fists and knives in the event of a confrontation. Hopefully there wouldn't be any need for a bust up.

"Left where?"

Butler wasn't willing to give them any information that could put his uncle or the target of this group in danger.

"It doesn't matter. He's not here," Butler shifted his weight to his back foot.

"That's fine," The guy twirled a long knife in one hand. "Then we'll just take whoever _is_ here."

"A woman and child? That's very macho of you," Butler muttered.

"His kid and wife..." the guy pondered aloud. "His son, right? And his woman? He'd pay for that. So we ransom them, and then get Fowl. That could work."

"Assuming I don't stop you."

"And how," the man laughed. "Are you going to do that? Who are you anyway, some rent a cop?"

Butler didn't speak. If the guy didn't recognise him, there wasn't much point threatening him with a name. Obviously not done his research. Obviously not a professional. Any half-sane underworld gangster would at least quiver at the sound of one Butler, let alone the two this guy was up against, even if he didn't know it yet. The Major or the guy, that is to say.

"Chill it, hot shot," an older gang member warned. "I think we just pulled a diamond."

"Nah, that was the other guy."

"We were warned there could be another one. Looks like him too."

"So what? You his son or summit?"

No answer, he was still trying to work out a way out of this.

"Go on then Mr. Tough-Nut Junior. What are you gonna do, eh?"

Butler tensed like a coiled spring. The guy looked nonchalant, but the twirling stopped and the knife looked less like a cheerleading baton and more like the deadly blade it was.

"Nothing? Fine then," the gang-member sneered, stepping forward. "I'll go first."

Then something else came into the mix. The taxi driver, to be precise.

"Hey! Which of you threw the brick? 'Cos you'll be paying for it - I'll see to that!"

"Shut him up," the leader droned, unthreatened by the slightly over-weight middle-aged man.

One of his, doubtlessly hired, street-thugs came up behind the unsuspecting driver and whacked him over the head with a piece of wood. Which, more fortunately for him than the other man, was exactly what Butler needed. Whilst the boss's head was turned, checking his orders were being obeyed, the Fowl bodyguard's fist shot out so fast the air whistled. The noise ended just as quickly, with a hollow thud, knocking the man unconscious immediately.

One down, five to go might have been bad odds for your average victim. But then again, Butler didn't consider himself as a victim.

After the obvious surprise had passed, someone thought it would be clever to hit their giant opponent over the head like the taxi man. Unfortunately for the not-so-bright spark, immediately after the blow made contact Butler grabbed the offending weapon and flung it, man attached, into the nearby skip. There was a second's pause before two more advanced with bats trying to batter the bodyguard into unconsciousness while the other two wielded knives. Butler wrestled one club from his opponent's grasp and turned the weapon on its original owner. The other narrowly missed the same treatment, dancing back with practiced grace.

_So at least one had some martial arts training. Shouldn't be a problem. _

Shouting shattered the icy silence of the night and a few curtains twitched in the hotel above. No-one came to help.

"You think you can stop us, diamond-boy?" an older one of the gang sneered.

_Stop you? I could annihilate you. _The well-buried gangster in Butler snorted. His visible self said nothing, preferring to put that famous diamond training into practice as he faked a lunge towards one of the men before turning the attack on the one who tried to take advantage of his unprotected back. There was a moment of mock-fencing between him and the other man with a bat before Butler abandoned that tactic and simply jabbed the man in the stomach and kneed him in the face when he bent double in pain.

That left the two knife-holders who had been attempting to get a stab in the whole time, perturbed by the flailing blows dealt by their colleague. With him out of the way they leapt forward. Butler used his wooden weapon to block the jabs easily, but quite unexpectedly, the older, and obviously more experienced, man hung back, waiting for his friend from the skip to rejoin the fray. Which he did so, for about five seconds, trying to attack from behind, but only managing to land a few light punches, before Butler managed to ensure he wouldn't be back again soon.  
Another scream alerted Butler to the next problem. A previously unseen man, who had been using the Bentley as cover, was opening the taxi door on the other side. It slightly occurred to him how movie-style and clichéd the move was as the bodyguard slid over the bonnet. He hooked the man's collar and hauled him backwards. Grimy fingers clamped on Artemis's white ankle, dragging him out with them. Angeline pulled back and for a moment they were stuck in an insane game of tug-of-war. One of the men who had made his way round the vehicle slightly less slick movement, leapt up and hooked his club over Butler's head, using his weight to hang off his neck by it and strangle him.

"Kick him, Artemis!" Butler choked, unable to deal with the newest attacker without letting go of the main threat to his principal.

The terrified boy jerked his leg in desperation. By some miracle his loafered foot impacted with the man's nose, adrenaline making the usually helpless Artemis's kick hefty enough to break the cartilage. The guy let go in shock.

Butler pulled him away, spinning and shutting the cab door with the man hanging from his neck. He lunged backwards again and the hands on the wooden pole released with the sound of their owner hitting the car. Butler got a better grip on the broken nosed man and grabbed hold of the strangler. Now for something suspiciously like one of Juliet's favourite wrestling moves. Annoyingly, whilst he was slamming the two assailants back into the side of the car, the smartest one managed to duck under Butler's guard, slashing his stomach with a modified carving-knife. Although he'd achieved his goal, the attacker instantly regretted this move, as he ended up on the floor writhing in the pain of a, likely dislocated, knee-cap.

The final attack came from one of the pair who had somehow remained conscious after his collision with the taxi. He swept the dropped knife from the concrete and lunged forward with the bloodied blade which Butler caught as he aimed a stab. Pulling the assailant towards him with it, he quickly dispatched the man with a headbutt and finished it with a precautionary pressure point jab to keep him down.

In less than five minuets, the atmosphere had returned from chaotic to silent, but for the groans of the semi-conscious gang members and his own slightly ragged breathing.

Not relaxing, he quickly checked all the men were immobilised. The one with the booted knee groaned slightly as he stood over him but he was in no state to get up.

Ignoring the pain in his abdomen Butler bent and searched one of the unconscious's pockets. Finding a wallet but no information on who this gang was, he stood. There wasn't time for this. He span round, towering over the man he had left awake. Time for a little interrogation practice.

"Regretting underestimating me yet?" he asked.

To his credit, the man did try to keep up the facade of bravery.

"Who are you?" Butler growled. "And what did you want with the Fowls?"

"And why should I tell you?"

Butler shrugged, pressing a heel down firmly on the injured knee. The man swore quite colourfully, calling Butler quite a few things he'd been called before and even some he hadn't. Well, at least the guy was creative. He was however, also annoyingly professional. Butler knew there was little future in pressuring this particular gangster. "You gonna talk?"

More swearing with the general meaning of 'no thank-you'.

"Fair enough," Butler thudded the heel of his hand against the leader's temple and his eyes rolled back in his head. He straightened up, wincing at the pain from his slashed stomach. This situation was several kinds of _not good_. However, the wound did seem to be bleeding freely through the tear in his shirt, which at least meant it likely hadn't hit any organs. Butler pushed the idea to the part of his head he left clear for currently unimportant problems and swept a glance over the forms on the floor he found another quivering one.

Like he would one day with a certain elf in many years to come, the predator went for the weakest in the 'herd'.

He repeated the questions.

"I...I don't know. Honest!" The man was young. Barely more than a teenager. Butler took little pity. A little.

"Really?" he asked, taking a step forward. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes! They only hired our gang for tonight to get this Fowl guy."

"Who's _they_?" Butler grabbed the man's collar, dragging him upright.

"I don't know, the boss wouldn't tell us! Please! I didn't mean to hurt anyone I only wanted the money!" Butler dropped him back on the concrete where he scooted backwards, terrified.

Butler believed the lad somewhat. Often, a random nearby mob would be lured with the promise of riches if they did as they were told for one night only. They were never usually told any of the details beyond who was the target. Well this was what happened when you sent a bunch of idiots to do a professional's job.

"I suggest you call an ambulance," he said darkly, and his interrogatee nodded frantically, searching his pockets for his mobile.

Butler made his way back to the taxi in quick strides. Now for the rest of his job. En route he hauled the out-cold taxi driver over one shoulder, opening the passenger side door and sliding him into seat as he checked the man's vitals.

Bending over hurt. A lot.

This, was definitely not good. Glancing down again and cursing himself for wearing his easier to move in, but less protective bullet proof vest.

_Hmm, rather a lot of red their Dom,_ he brain informed him. _Sitting down would probably be a bright one._

He decided not to look any harder for now.

"Are you alright?" he asked the back seat passengers as he buckled the seatbelt loosely over the man's torso. Mrs. Fowl screamed until she recognised his bloodied face. And then let out another cry of shock when she saw the state he was in.

"I think so," she gasped delicately. "But what happened to you?"

If Juliet had asked this, Butler might have been tempted to ask her if she'd been asleep for the last ten minuets as how else could she have missed the full-scale battle that had gone just the other side of the window. Instead, he controlled his rebellious sarcasm gene and assured Angeline that it was: "Just a few scratches."

"That is not a few_ scratches_, Butler!" she shrieked.

"Admittedly, m'am."

"_Admittedly_? Butler you're shirt is soaked! Please tell me that's not _all_ your blood?"

"Perhaps not _all_ of it..." he wasn't exactly lying. Artemis sat staring in morbid fascination at the liquid covering his bodyguard's shirt. Obviously the majority of the rapidly spreading crimson stain was his own, although some of it was likely to have come from one or more of his victims. Talking of which, they needed to get away from here before the ambulance, and likely the police, that the only alert gang-member had called for arrived.

_Concentrate. Use what's provided._

"Could you pass me that blanket please?"

His charge's mother dragged a car blanket off the parcel shelf with her weak arms and handed it over. Butler tied it as tightly as he could bear around his waist, then climbed into the driver's side. Taking a second to find the right lever, he pushed the seat back as far as it would go and started the, thankfully functional, engine.

"Where are we going?"

Butler almost rolled his eyes. Almost.

Luckily he didn't need to answer, Artemis did for him.

"Hospital, of course, Mother."

"Oh. Yes, of course. Is there anything I can do?" Angeline said nervously.

"Hold his wrist, please, and tell me if he stops breathing. His pulse should be about..."

"How do I count that?"

" Just tell me if the pulsing slows, OK? Hold here," Butler said, bending the cab driver's arm back awkwardly so she could hold it in manicured hands. She did so, wincing at his dirty palms.

"Like this?"

"Yes. And definitely tell me if it stops," he added grimly.

Artemis was quiet. Very unusual for him. Butler smiled what he hoped was a reassuring sort of grin at him, made slightly less so by the colour of his teeth from a bust lip, and yanked the car into first gear. They blasted off with a wheel-spin any racing driver would have been proud of. This particular driver was only thankful that _this_ car actually moved.

* * *

**Right that's the second one up.**

**This should be done and completely up by Christmas or at least by the end of 2010 so if you start reading it'll be like a Christmas present. **

**And if you don't celebrate Christmas? Then it's just an out-of-the-blue prezzy for you. Aint I nice?**

**Wanna be nice back? You know what to do to cheer me up, ey?**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	3. Busy Being Fine

**This isn't amazingly long this one - don't get too excited.**

**Thank-you to Steinbock for the review, spotting the *cough* deliberate mistake to check you were all reading *cough* (not) and for faving me :P**

**Thank-you to Beckett Simpleton, as usual, glad you're back buddy.**

**And thanks of course thanks for the very excitable review from Readergirl99.**

**I hope this fic lives up to the praise I got for the last one.**

**Please tell us if it does. I get as excited as my dog does in snow when I get reviews. Which is a lot. He still won't come in from the garden yet...**

**I was gonna call this chappie "Ar-ty Phone Home", but decided that it was slightly too daft, even for me.**

**On with it then.**

**Of course, it just wouldn't be the same without a car chase.**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 3 - Busy Being Fine**

It occurred to Butler as he weaved round a late night, and likely drunk, driver, that he only had a vague idea where the nearest hospital was, but he kept an eye out for the little red 'H' on the road-signs which mercifully appeared once they entered the city road system. He was driving rather too fast despite the lack of a safe windscreen. It was completely shattered, definitely not the bullet proof shield the Bentley boasted. Glass slivers stopped flying into his face after the first mile but the blood didn't stop seeping through the car blanket.

_Probably should have told uncle,_ he thought guiltily, swinging round a roundabout without even touching the break. A pair of headlights in the lay-by flared into light, swiftly followed by the flashing blue ones Butler had been hoping not to encounter.

"Butler, I believe that's the police behind us," Angeline said nervously.

"I think so too, m'am," Butler said calmly. At least as calmly as physically possible when you're bleeding profusely, in control of a speeding vehicle and in charge of keeping three other people alive.

"Should you not pull over?" The lady bit her lip worriedly.

"I probably should."

"Are you going to?"

"No, m'am."

"Ah." Mrs. Fowl double checked Artemis had his belt on and held on tightly to the door-handle. Perhaps the first smart idea she'd had that evening.

Butler forced the cab to its limit, only his experience at evasive driving keeping the higher-power engined police car at bay.

At exactly an awkward moment involving a near-hairpin bend and the six-seater hen-party taxi they'd heard about earlier coming the other way, the ex-driver woke up. He groaned, saw Butler and closed his eyes again. The current driver didn't have enough space left in his head after the pain and concentration had filled it to worry about whether the man had passed out again from concussion, or from fear.

Artemis sat, clinging to the door-handle. He tried not to think about what had happened but his brain sparked off conclusions. The facts? One: someone had wanted to attack his father. A competitor? Ex-business partner, perhaps? Two: they had failed. Partly down to their own negligence with details and mainly down to his bodyguard. Talking of whom, he glanced into the front of the car, catching his bodyguard's eye in the mirror. The man was concentrating too hard to respond to any form of communication. With good reason, one wrong move and they were off the road, although the final destination would likely be the same. It occurred to Artemis that someone should be informed that they wouldn't be home any time soon.

"I'm going to phone home," he said, only just loud enough to be audible over the screaming sirens and roaring engines. "To inform them of events."

"Great idea," Butler said through gritted teeth as he negotiated with a lorry over a particularly narrow space to overtake it in. He was thankful his charge had had the same thought. Although it was something that would give him trouble in the future, he had to admit that having a genius as a principle was helpful at times.

Artemis took out his phone, scrolling through the numbers. He hovered over _Juliet's Mobile_ for a second before deciding to select _Fowl Manor_ wondering vaguely why he'd not named the number _Home_. The dialling tone lasted a few seconds, long enough for Artemis to be slung into his mother and back into the window, grateful he'd clipped in his seatbelt.

Once the phone was picked up he realised that it wouldn't have made a difference which he had chosen out of the two numbers he was going to call. The receiver was the same.

"Hello Fowl Manor, can I take a message."

"You're supposed to say 'this is Juliet 'in between that, Juliet," Artemis told her.

"Oh, hey Arty. What's up?"

Artemis thought about this. "Juliet, is my father home, with your uncle?"

"Nope, not yet - why? Should they be?"

"Yes actually," Artemis felt a ball of dread drop in his stomach.

"Why?" Juliet asked cautiously. "Artemis, tell me what's happened. Is everyone OK?"

"Well..."

"Tell her I'm fine!" Butler called out, obviously pre-empting the question.

"There was a fight," Artemis relayed. "But your brother says he's fine."

"Why how badly hurt is he?"

"He's... he's fine," Artemis repeated, confused. He'd definitely just said _fine_, hadn't he? Not _greviously injured_.

"Don't lie, Arty. I know my brother, he could be dying and he'd still say he's fine. He has a pretty funny idea of _fine_."

Artemis sighed. "He's been stabbed ..."

"Badly? Anything he hasn't had before?"

"I don't know..." Artemis said, how was he supposed to answer that when neither of them had a clue what Butler had been up to before their birth. "He's bleeding quite a lot..."

"Don't tell her that," Butler groaned.

"What was that? Put him on would you please."

"I can't. He's driving."

"OK then where are you? In the car - duh," Juliet answered her own question. "Give me a road name or something."

"I can't," Artemis repeated.

"Not even one sign or something?"

Artemis squinted out of the window at the signs flashing by. Reading one was not a feasible option.

"All I can say is that Butler is driving us to hospital in a taxi with no windscreen," Artemis sighed.

"What the...?" Juliet shook her head in disbelief. "What happened to the Bentley? And where's Uncle and your dad?"

"On the way home in another taxi..."

"Is that sirens I can hear?"

"Um... Yes. The police are pursuing us."

"Is my brother driving a little too fast by any chance?" Juliet asked sarcastically.

"Yes, rather. However, the taxi-driver is unconscious at the moment and we don't have much other choice. Mother and I are unharmed and would you please tell my father..."

"Oh he's here!" Juliet chipped in. "Uncle? Artemis says there's been some sort of... incident." Juliet said in the background, as per training.

Artemis thought he heard rumbled cuss words and there was a rustling as the handset was handed over.

"Hello? This is Artemis, would you please tell my father that someone wished to harm him. They attacked us."

"Are you hurt? Your mother?"

"No, no, Butler looked after us but he's bleeding quite profusely. As I told Juliet, we are on the way to hospital now."

"Can I speak to him, please?" The Major asked.

"He's a bit preoccupied with driving currently."

"I understand," a rush of static. "Your father wishes to speak with you."

More movement.

"Artemis, son? What happened?"

Artemis took a breath. "A lot, Father. I haven't time to say..."

"Of course," he could imagine his father was running his hands through his hair. "Can I speak to your mother?"

"No she's busy," Artemis scowled slightly. What was wrong with talking to him? He could answer all the same questions, likely in a more coherent way, too.

"Busy? What on earth is she... oh never mind. Just...ring me at the hospital. Tell Butler to drive safely, I've no intention of you getting injured tonight."

"Neither has he, I assume," Artemis told him. "I will call again later, Father."

Artemis hung up. "I've told them. Father says to ring at the hospital."

"We're almost there," Butler grunted. "Just need to..." he broke off to swerve an ambulance and, to the backing-track of the blare of the police sirens, spun the battered vehicle to a screeching halt outside the A&E of the hospital. Not quite a scene from an action film - that would likely have involved many more police cars and at least one helicopter, nevertheless, the extremeness of the situation was there.

"Should we get out?" Angeline asked.

"No... err... in fact yes." _Concentrate you idiot. _Butler brought himself out of the blood-loss daze he was sinking into. The two police-officers had dived from the car aiming tasers but approaching slowly.

"Get out of the vehicle with your hands up!"

Butler ignored the shouted order. "Do. Get out and go and warn them I'm coming in with an unconscious man, please," he finished, shaking his head to clear it slightly, neglecting to mention himself in the list of new patients.

She went, dragging Artemis with her. Which Butler would have been worried about had he had enough brain space left to worry about the distance between himself and his principals. Apparently the Fowls weren't seen to be the main threat, as the law-enforcement kept yelling at _him _rather than following the woman and child.

Butler climbed stiffly out of the car, closing the door behind him and noticing for the first time that his palm was encrusted with congealing blood. He clenched his fist over the pain, passing it off as another petit issue in the grand scheme of things - at least the knife hadn't gone into any of the ligaments.

"Step away from the vehicle with your hands up," one policeman yelled.

He raised his hands, backing round to the other side of the car.

"Step away from the vehicle!"

"Will do," Butler mumbled, opening the passenger side door.

The guy lolled in his seat, groaning his way into consciousness.

"Wha's goan un..." he garbled.

"Stay still." Butler grunted.

With a little effort, he lifted the taxi-man out of his seat, swaying slightly as he straightened up. The driver wasn't _that_ heavy either. At least not to a man who could bench-press his uncle if betted that he couldn't. He could, just to set that fact straight. With the police hovering around him, but finally realising his motives, Butler staggered his way forward towards the hospital lobby.

A doctor started talking to him but his words seemed miles away. Butler handed the man to the nearest medic, who promptly collapsed under the weight, and tried to lean against the door.

He knew the feeling he was feeling well. _Too well_, he decided.

His sight blurred slightly, colours whirling like a kaleidoscope. The lightheaded feeling intensified as blackness crept into his vision. He glanced around for the Fowls. They were being comforted by a nurse in the bright white light of the reception, wrapped in red blankets, despite being perfectly unharmed. Artemis pointed towards him, tugging on the nurse's uniform. She patted his shoulder comfortingly. He pulled away and said something, pointing more firmly. Butler raised his hand back as a signal he was OK. Then his knees buckled, and he fell into the mental abyss.

* * *

**That was short, I know.**

**Sorry - next one is longer, honest.**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	4. Bleeping Hospitals

**Here we are, slightly longer chapter. Sadly it's a slightly longer chapter full of not much. Not much action, that is, but it does contain a bit of Butler talking to himself and an escape attempt. I say _attempt_. You'll have to read it to find out won't you?**

**(Erm... OK just to point it out that was a sneaky way of getting you to read on... hopefully you didn't need any encouragement anyway but, you know...)**

**Thanks to Beckett Simpleton for the review.**

**On with it.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4 - Bleeping Hospitals**

The first thing he was aware of was a rhythmic _beep_ing.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Alarm clock? No. To soft. It was more of a _bleep_ anyway.

_Bleep._

_Bleep._

_Bleep._

Was it counting something?

Counting up?

Down?

A countdown?

A bomb?

Adrenalin started to pump and Butler tried to crack open his eyes to the glaring whiteness beyond his eyelids. It was a _blip_ping noise whatever it was. Consciousness, and the answer, floated just out of reach in a sea of numbed pain and sedatives. Numbed pain. That feeling of _this-should-really-be-hurting-right-now-so-why-isn't-it?_ He clenched his stomach muscles in an attempt to sit up and the weird feeling increased. _Ah-ha_. So he should be in pain. _Why was that again?_

_Blip._

_Blip._

_Blip._

It really was quite an annoying noise. _Blip_ping away like a heart monitor in a hospital.

_Heart monitor? Hospital? _

It all came flooding back. The dinner, the fight, the drive. Butler opened his eyes. It was too bright. Halogen strips burnt a neon rainbow of colours in an outline image of themselves into his retinas. He snapped them shut again, frowning as a lightening bolt of brain-pain warned him not to try that again any time too soon.

"Hello there," a voice said.

Butler ignored the caution his brain was giving him and squinted open his eyes to see a nurse tidying the next bed. He tried to sit up again. It hurt. Quite a lot, actually. So much for the painkillers.

"Ow," he muttered, more out of habit from hanging around with his sister too often than actual need to express his discomfort. "Well that stings a bit."

Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed he let his head adjust to the altitude of sitting before he sky-rocketed it towards its usual seven-foot site.

"What are you doing?" gasped the nurse. "Lie back down immediately! You shouldn't even be awake for another three hours!"

"Huh." Butler grunted. General statistics didn't often apply to him. The nurse crossed the room, pinafore billowing with each stride.

"Lie down immediately or the next time you wake up you will be secured to the bed."

Butler ignored her. Who said he was going to sleep again any time soon, anyway?

"Where's my stuff?" he grunted. Some stuff in particular. Explosive, dangerous, not-strictly-legal _stuff_.

"Your ...ahem..._family _took your clothes home."

_Family? Uncle? Juliet?_

"Who?" he asked.

"The woman and young boy you came in with. They were quite worried about you, you know."

_Oh. The Fowls._

"How are they?"

"The pair of them are fine. Not a scratch."

"Good."

"Thanks to you I suspect. You're their bodyguard, correct?"

Butler grunted, not committing either way. The nurse wasn't just making conversation. She was buying herself time. Trying to make him listen to her too.

"Well if you are, you're good at your job. I have a feeling a few gentlemen brought in within an hour of yourself have something to do with your condition. And you theirs?"

Butler stayed silent, looking for the quickest way out of the room and, ultimately, the building.

"Ah well," the nurse seemed disappointed at his lack of answer. "They aren't talking either."

Butler still didn't answer. But he_ did_ see several fire-exit signs giving him the green light to get out of there. He headed for the door.

"I shall have to insist you return to bed," the nurse said trying to block him. Her temporary patient raised his eyebrows and ripped the sticky pads off his chest, sending the heart monitor into a high pitched whine that corkscrewed its way into his headache.

"Stop me then," he muttered, shoving past her. Pain scratched at his arm and, realising he had a drip injected into his inner elbow, he went to pull it out. It was in his left arm and as he went to remove it his right hand flared with pain too.

He looked at it and remembered closing the taxi door and, before that, catching the knife blade. Stitches now zipped up the slash and he poked them gingerly. Unfortunately for him, this gave the nurse time to press her emergency buzzer. Two larger male doctors came running, or rather speed walking - it wasn't a good idea to run in the narrow hospital corridors. Butler didn't reckon he'd be doing much running anyway. His legs felt like he had invisible metal shoes on his bare feet, not that he hadn't ran in lead boots before, but his balance wasn't up to much under these drugs. Nope. It would have to be the slow and steady wins the race tactic if he was going to escape this time.

"Come on now, sir. Back to bed." One said in a much firmer voice.

_Ha ha,_ Butler's drug-addled brain commented. _You just got 'sir'd. When was the last time that happened, eh?_

_Just shut up and find us a way out of here before we get bolted to a bed. _

_Oh great._ Having conversations in your head was not a good thing to be happening when you needed to be sharp.

Wondering whether this random mental commentary was a result of a head-injury or the medication, and also whether it was permanent, Butler tried to shove past the man too, but the other jabbed a needle into his arm. A powerful sedative rushed into his newly replenished blood.

He stumbled forwards, staggering a few paces, even reaching the door to the main corridor. A few people on the other side of the reinforced glass backed away, alarmed faces fading as the drugs took effect. Sensible idea really; moving away. It was not a good idea to be standing near him right now. It would be about as wise as standing near a half-felled tree.

Despite this, he carried on moving as though by some miracle he would still make it out.

_Then what? I'm really not thinking straight_, he realised. The drugs were messing with his common sense as well as his mobility. He flung out a hand to the wall that seemed closer than it was. Missed. Stumbled. He reached for it again; palm slapping heavily against the paint this time, but gaining no purchase on the smooth surface. He slipped and _woah_ the floor was moving fast.

Towards him.

It stopped moving rather suddenly.

_Oh fantastic,_ he thought glumly, breathing in the strong disinfectant smell of the tiles pressed against his face. Now he was going to be unconscious for another few hours. _Dammit._ He had chance to finish thinking, before the blackness took him again.

* * *

True to the nurse's word, and his own expectations, when Butler woke up the next time, chains jangled as he tried to get up.

_Dammit. Again._

He tested them anyway out of habit, but they were designed to stop the usual criminals that ended up in hospital from escaping and a few of them were close to his size. Maybe a little later when the sedative had worn off. At least he wasn't attached to one of those infernal _beep_ing machines now.

"You don't half wake up quickly, don't you? You've not been in that bed more than an hour."

Great. That *insert unflattering adjective here* nurse, was back. He was in a private room this time. Probably to stop him from persuading another patient to undo the cuffs. Not that they would be able to, the keys were in the matron's locked draw. Not that Butler knew that. Or that he planned to use the keys. He vaguely wondered how they had managed to move him here.

_Forklift, s_niggered his mental Juliet.

_Shut up._

_Stop talking to yourself._

_I'm not talking to myself, _he argued with her._ I'm talking to you._

_I __**am**__ you._

_Oh brilliant. I'm finally going insane._

_You were already insane,_ brain-Juliet laughed.

_Yeah well, now I'm going completely... no wait. This is __**not**__ normal. _

_Shut up then._

_This is **my** head - __**you **__shut up!_

"You aren't very friendly fellow are you?"

Butler was jolted out of his mental conversation by the nurse's question. His answer was a silent glare. What kind of bodyguard would he be if he was _friendly_? What? The scary-guy image wasn't enough of a clue for the woman?

Then he had a thought. If he could get this nurse to trust him more then maybe she'd undo the cuffs. One problem. Butler wasn't very good at being 'pally', in fact, he was rather good at being the opposite.

"Uh...what time is it?" he asked, trying to be nicer.

"Six thirty in the morning. My shift finishes in half an hour, thank heavens. You've only been here for about five hours. Visiting time is at three pm until five in the afternoon and seven until eight in the evening. Anything else you want to know?"

Butler frowned. Too much information overloading his aching head. Quite a few questions too.

"When are they letting me out?" he decided on.

"You sound like we're keeping you against your will."

"Well I am chained to the bed," Butler emphasised the statement with a rattle of the cuffs. They hadn't even used the Velcro type to tempt an escape attempt. Even if there _were_ Velcro cuffs clamped around his wrist, taunting them with their apparent fragility, he knew from experience that they wouldn't be. Obviously, they weren't taking any more chances. Either that or he was under suspicion for the GBH charges that would be filing in from the scene of the fight.

"It's for your own good. We're not a prison. You can go home when the doctor thinks it fit."

Butler grunted. He doubted that. He was already fine and if it was up to him he would be home now. He stared around the room for an escape route should he manage to slip the cuffs. Door? Check - but it was clearly locked every time they left him. Windows? Check - although it would be a smash 'em job, no way he was squeezing out of one of those standard security models. The next half an hour or so was spent judging distances and memorising the layout of the room.

"Right. I'm off now so no more escaping, if you don't mind," the nurse said, bustling back to replace his drip bag with more painkiller. Butler did mind.

"I don't need that," he stated stubbornly.

"With a ten inch smiley face drawn onto your six-pack with a knife, you don't need painkiller? Of course you don't," she muttered, making sure the bag was secure.

"Nope. And I definitely could do without the sedative that's mixed in with it. It'll mess with my escape attempts."

Although she seemed slightly surprised he'd cottoned on to the fact the IV wasn't just painkiller, apparently the nurse didn't seem to appreciate his dry sense of humour. "Well that's not my decision but I can't see how you'd get out of here with or without sedative."

"How many floors up are we?"

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be," Butler shrugged.

"Three, if you must know. And the glass is reinforced."

Three. He could manage three. And 'phooey' as Juliet would say, to the reinforced glass. _Juliet._ His sister would be worse than the nurses. Perhaps staying here for a while would be a good idea after all.

He must have fallen asleep after that, because the next thing he heard was the lunch trolley.

"Lunch, dear?" the old lady asked.

"No," Butler said automatically. Then added as an after-thought. "Thanks."

"Are you sure? You need to keep your strength up."

His _strength_ was the exact thing the doctors were trying to keep _down_. Butler sighed as she put him down a plate on the bedside table anyway. After she left he looked at the food. It didn't look too bad. And it smelt pretty damn good for crappy hospital food. Realising that he hadn't eaten in over twelve hours, and the feeling around his stomach wasn't just pain, he went to pick the plate up.

_Jangle - clank._

_Dammit._

After the annoyance at the handcuffs had subsided, Butler tried to examine his wounds. Not much luck there, either. His hand and abdomen were bound up with white dressings, covering, he guessed, numerous stitches. After picking at his hand for a while he eventually managed to rip the sticky bandage off with his teeth. The skin around the stitches was an angry red. He poked it gingerly. About the most entertainment he'd have all day. It was going to be a long one. Assuming anyone came at visiting time, and that lunch was around twelve, he had between a 3 and 8 hours to wait.

With nothing to read, and the bedside TV rolling the same seven adds over and over again, he stared at the ceiling to pass the time, thinking about how much he hated hospitals.

* * *

**Aww poor big guy. Shame. **

**More action in the next chappie, honest.**

**Quick note:-**

**GBH - Grevious Bodily Harm, dunno if that's what they call it anywhere else but here in the UK it's one up from ABH - Actual Bodily Harm. It's basically a kind of assault.**

**Anyone who read my last fic "The That Look Incident" will know that we got to this point last time and I started nagging on about lack of reviews...*cough cough***

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	5. That'll Do

**Thanks to Beckett Simpleton, Readergirl99 and Steinbock and Cielo Crimisi for the reviews. You guys keep me going.**

**Rest of you, come on guys, I know you're reading - I've worked out how to use the traffic thing to see how many of you are reading and thinking - **_**nah can't be arsed**_**. I know the feeling. I do it myself sometimes. But at least with me you don't even have to log in (that's the_ really _annoying part). Go on, make my day. Even just to tell me my story sucks :P It'll still make me smile :)**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 5 - That'll do**

The Major headed down the corridor. It made him more than a little uneasy to leave the Fowls 'home-alone' especially under the present circumstances. However, if the whole security team couldn't keep them safe, then there was only a marginal chance that he could do any better. Well perhaps a little more than _marginal_...

He turned to the job at hand - which was checking that no-one had turned his nephew into a human bomb, or something of the sorts. If someone was out to get Artemis, there was a chance they would have left something, or someone, to meet them at the hospital. He gave the corridor a _second_ once over and checked the reception staff matched with the list he had _acquired_ from the management folders.

_So far so good._

"Hello, can I help you?" A nurse behind the desk asked him. A little nervously it had to be said, but then again who wouldn't be at least a little nervous when faced with a shaven giant staring at you through blacked out shades. _Sunglasses? In the middle of winter,_ the nurse wondered. _Who is this guy?_

"Yes, Detective Inspector Kean. I'm here to take a look at our GBH suspect," The Major flashed a fake badge. Fake to anyone smart enough to know the difference, that was.

"Oh so he is getting charged?"

"That's police information, miss. However it's a two way street, I need to asses his own injuries to determine whether his alleged victims' are justifiable as results of self defence." The Major wasn't lying. He'd been involved in enough Grievous Bodily Harm cases of his own to know the way the investigations would go.

"Of course, do you need to talk directly with him? If so I'm afraid he's currently under sedation..."

"That won't be a problem."

"Oh... alright then, I suppose I can let you in for a few minuets," the nurse took out a set of keys and led him to the room. "You don't have a name yet do you?"

"No." The answer was firm and afforded an impression of _ask no more questions_.

"OK... ah...just let me know when you leave. This door isn't meant to be unlocked without good reason. We've already had one escape attempt off him," she told the strange police officer and walked away, wondering why on earth what she'd said would be something to smile about.

The Major cast a hard eye over the interior of the room through the reinforced glass, forcing himself to be rational about the possibilities. Since, according to all but the most dangerous of opponents, and these were clearly not as dangerous as they would hope the previous night's events took into account, the next person to walk in the room would have been a nurse and not himself, it was highly unlikely that any traps had been set to blow the next enterer up. However you could never be too careful...He noted the positions of the security cameras and which ones were actually_ on_ before he began running his hand around the sides of the door. No trip wires. Nothing.

Struggling to decide whether the lack of _any_ security threats was something to be concerned about in itself, but satisfied enough for now that he was safe to start checking the room, he opened the unlocked door quietly and slipped in.

It was testament to his training that he glanced around the room for anything unusual before he turned his gaze on his nephew. He was asleep. Of course, they'd be pumping him full of twenty kinds of sedative to keep him down. Another uncle might have clapped the prone giant on the shoulder and proclaimed '_That's m'boy'_, The Major contented himself with wiping the small smirk off his own face.

He pulled out the chair usually reserved for concerned relatives and sat, chin resting on his massive fist as he genuinely _did_ assess the injuries.

His nephew was scowling in his sleep. Darkened patches of bruising accentuated his features and there was more than a couple of grazes patching his face. The Major slipped the health-sheet from its slot. The typing and neat handwriting told him all he needed to know. Nine stitches to the palm of the hand. _Knife catch_, The Major guessed. And a grand total of twenty eight stitches to the abdomen.

_Nothing too serious then, _he shrugged, replacing the sheet.

The palm face up on the bed, wrist adorned by a silver cuff, had the criss-crossed line of stitching. The Major could see that it had had some sort of bandaging over it up until recently. Most likely his nephew had torn it off to see how good the stitching was. The laceration looked slightly infected; no doubt the knife that made it wasn't entirely sterile. Glancing out to the hall to check he wasn't being watched, The Major took a small bottle from his jacket and unscrewed the lid. A sharp smell leaked into the air as he dripped several drops of the oil onto the closed cut and rubbed the Butler-special concoction into the reddened skin. It would do two things, reduce the swelling and lessen the chance of infection and, well, it would let his nephew know he'd been there. He put the bottle down on the side, giving the cut one more dab.

His nephew clenched his fist, frown deepening. He shifted as he muttered something incoherent in his sedative induced slumber. His uncle reached out a hand as though to smooth the scowl away but paused half-way. Domovoi was a Butler. He didn't need affection, he needed reminding of his training and, occasionally, approval. He picked up the bottle of oil with his outstretched hand instead, checking the cap was tight and slipping it back into his pocket.

_He'll live._

His watch beeped and The Major got up, crossing the room in a few short paces. He should be getting back, who knew what trouble the Fowls could get into without a Butler by their side. Well he said without, Juliet was at home, much to her dismay. He'd bring her along later.

The Major swept his sharp eyes across the room to check if there was anything he might have missed. There wasn't of course. He never missed anything. Yet still he paused at the door. Rolling his eyes at his own sentimental stupidity, he turned and spoke quietly to his unconscious nephew.

"Good lad, Dom. Good lad."

* * *

_A few hours later_

"Psst. Wake up!"

Someone was poking him. A familiar smell hit his nostrils, but he couldn't quite place it. Another poke.

"Geroff," Butler grumbled. He had fallen asleep. Again. It was becoming a rather annoying habit and likely had something to do with the bag pumping clear liquid into his arm through the replaced needle.

"Oi... wake _up_!" A sharper prod.

Butler squinted his eyes open irritably, well prepared to tell his 'attacker' to _go away_ in rather more colourful language. A familiar silhouette shadowed out the florescent lights had the bad mood evaporating instantly.

"Hey Jules," he said staring _up_ at his little sister – a very strange experience for them both.

"Uncle says we mustn't tell them your name," she whispered conspiratorially as she gave him a hug. Butler had guessed that, as no-one had called him 'Mr. Butler' and his charts were blank in the name and patient id number section. All three Fowls and his Uncle filed in from the corridor and stood around the bed. Given the present company, Butler decided not to crack the 'I'm not dying, am I?' joke.

"Good evening, Butler," Artemis Junior said stiffly. Artemis Senior nodded approvingly at him.

"Good evening, young sir," Butler replied trying not to smile at his charge's attempt at formality. The matron poked her greying head through the door, scowl apparent on her face.

"Could I speak to you for a moment, please?" she said, gesturing towards Mr. Fowl who sighed dramatically and left the room. The Major and Mrs. Fowl glanced at each other and, after a second, followed. A massive argument in the middle of the hospital ward was _not _what they needed right now.

"Are you feeling OK? What medication have they given you? Have you eaten anything?" Artemis began questioning him now his Father was out of the way.

"Calm down, Artemis, I'm fine."

"Good. Now to the business of your escape."

Butler grinned; that was his charge alright. Plotting away at the tender age of seven.

"The keys to your bonds are in the Matron's office, I noted that earlier when she escorted us to your room. Unpleasant woman. Was adamant you should only have two visitors at a time until The Major convinced her otherwise."

Butler nodded, Juliet traced the soon to be scar on his right palm gently.

"Now. If you can learn the shifts of particular nurses and tell me when we next visit tomor..."  
Artemis was cut off by shouting coming from outside the room.

"Don't be preposterous! Privacy is a human right!"

_Ay up, trouble a foot._

Juliet jumped and Artemis span round, trying to see through the window in the door without being seen himself.

"Please, sir! We are in a hospital! Lower your voice!" the Matron shouted back.

_Hypocrite_, Butler mused, trying to put a name to the strange scent he could still smell.

"I _will not_ as long as you continue to force..."

"We are not _forcing _anyone!"

"That is not what I see! My employee is tied to the bed in there and you expect me to believe that that is where he wishes to be!"

"We are only asking for the gentleman's name! So we can see if he's..."

"I can assure you he is on nobody's _record_!" Mr. Fowl bellowed.

Butler could have disagreed with that. He was quite certain he was on quite a few establishments' _records_, just not this particular hospital's.

"Please calm down, sir! You are causing a disturbance! Security!"

There was sounds of pounding feet, some more shouting and then:

"Take your hands off him." The Major's deep, booming voice cut through the noise. There was a scuffle and the security guards released Mr. Fowl very quickly indeed.

"I am afraid I shall have to ask you to leave," The Matron said triumphantly pointing at her watch. "Visiting time is over, it's eight o'clock!"

There was a muttering and Mrs. Fowl re-entered the room.

"Sorry children, it's time to go now," she said looking flustered and taking the hand of her son.

"Come on Juliet, I'm sorry sweetheart, you can visit him again tomorrow," she said taking her hand too.

"Goodbye," Mrs. Fowl smiled nervously at Butler's battered face. "And thank-you for... for what you did."

"Just doing my job m'am," Butler said, unused to gratitude, especially from his employers, unsure how to react. The Matron bustled in.

"See! You're much to excited!"

"Excited?" asked Butler. "What the...?"

The head nurse pulled out a needle.

"Hey, wait! I'm fine!" Butler struggled clenching his fists and lurching himself upright. She wanted excited? He could be excited. The chains creaked ominously.

"Brother!" Juliet yelped, dragging her hand out of Angeline's hand and diving over to try to stop the nurse.

"Leave it, Jules. I'll be fine. Go home." He looked at her frightened face and shrugged. "I'm getting my first lot of lie-ins in years here."

Juliet half-smiled and went with Mrs. Fowl. The matron, who looked rather relieved, still jabbed the sharp hollow cylinder into his arm. Nothing happened and he was sorely tempted to be extremely childish and laugh in her face, possibly adding a raspberry into the mix. _OK. Definitely the medication doing the talking there. Or Juliet._

The woman looked thoroughly peeved and jabbed him with a second vial. A few seconds later and either the world was shrinking or his eyes were closing. Butler groaned.

_Here we go again._

Clinging to the last shreds of consciousness, he finally realised the source of the smell. And he smiled.

* * *

**Yes I'm at it again with the daft chapter names. This one nearly ended up as "That'll do Pig."**

**Anyway. I managed to refrain. I blame my dog for this particular chapter's randomness. He slept on the sofa next to me while I edited this with his back paw taking up quite a lot of the keyboard.**

**Still, hope it wasn't too soppy in places. They like to keep up their tough-nut exterior these Butler guys, even if we all have our suspicious that they're just big softies really...**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	6. Just One Blue Diamond

**Thanks to _Beckett Simpleton_, _Steinbock _and _mischievous101_ for the reviews and to _chasingXstarlight _for the fave and _A . Thorn _for the alert - yay I like it when the thanks list is long :) **

**No it's not like "Just one Cornetto".**

**It's also not a big action chappie. Suspense, however, does feature in this not-an-ice-cream chapter. At least I hope it does...**

* * *

**CHAPTER 6 - Just One Blue Diamond**

The next day past without incident.

Or at least without any escape attempts.

The nurse who had first seen him smiled and said, "Good to see you're still here."

To which he replied that the Matron barley allowed him to be conscious let alone leave. But he had to at least be grateful that he _was _allowed to use the bathroom every couple of hours, but only if accompanied by several male nurses until locked in a room with a sink, a toilet and no windows.

To start the uninteresting day off, it was the Matron who brought him his breakfast.

_Odd, _he wondered. _What does she want?_

"Good morning, Mister..." she let the greeting hand. Butler barely refrained from snorting. Like he was daft enough to fill in the gap, even under the amount of mind-addling medication his was on, he wasn't _that_ out of it.

"Good morning Missus..." he mimicked insolently. She was quiet for a moment and he took that as a que to start eating. She waited until he had swallowed the first few mouthfuls of the slop they called breakfast before she spoke again.

"I realise you are unwilling to provide us with any information. However, if you continue to refuse to do so then I'm afraid the police will be forced to arrest you."

Butler raised an eyebrow. "I was under the impression they already had."

"What gave you that idea?"

Butler jangled the cuffs slightly. "Oh no reason," he muttered sarcastically.

"Well," she sniffed. "If you must know, the officer who came to asses your situation yesterday has so far not reported back his findings."

"There was a police-officer here?"

"Detective Inspector Kean, so I believe. He's on your and a few other men's case. Of course we have names for them, so at least one has been released so far..."

"You didn't see him?" Butler interrupted. "The officer," he clarified. He could deal with 'the one that got away' later.

"Not personally, no," she admitted suspiciously.

Butler kept his poker-face on. No need to muck up his uncle's work, for guaranteed it was he who was the 'officer'.

"So I'm free to go then?" he asked hopefully.

"Another officer will be interviewing you either today or most likely tomorrow."

"And after that?" Butler prompted.

"As long as you have no outstanding charges, then you will be released once you are deemed fit," she told him.

"You and me both know that time was right after I woke up... the first time."

"Being as though you are not of medical profession I cannot see how you would know that."

Deciding that the woman was not going to take 'I know, because I'm _me,_ and this kind of thing has happened rather a few times before' as an answer, he resorted to the deathly silence that normally served to make his opponents suitably nervous.

A faithful technique, it worked well.

"Well, I hope you consider your options seriously," she said haughtily.

"Will do," he shrugged.

"The police will be here tomorrow to interview you," she snapped, turned on her heel and stomped out of the room.

"Daft old bat," Butler muttered through a mouthful of food.

* * *

The dressing on his stomach being changed was the most interesting thing that happened that day. He gave the gash a good once over as best he could and smirked at the surprised face of the person doing the disinfecting when he muttered something about it not being too bad. Well, he'd had worse.

"What's this?" asked the first nurse he'd met as she redid the bandaging on his hand.

"What's what?" he frowned. He'd noticed that there was an interestingly shaped crack on one of the ceiling tiles he'd been staring at. _Interesting ceiling damage? What are you on about?_ The still semi-sane portion of his brain asked in disbelief.

"That," she poked his shoulder. Butler snapped away from his incredibly interesting ceiling surveying, knowing the source of the questioning without even having to look.

"It's a tattoo," he said bluntly.

"I can see that," the nurse sighed. "Doesn't it mean something in some gang or something?"

"If you don't know, I'm not telling," Butler recited.

The other nurse working on his stomach, an older man, laughed. "No point pursuing this one, Susie."

"So I see," she muttered.

"So, just one little blue diamond, eh? You didn't fancy more? They say getting tattoos is addictive."

"No," Butler said sardonically. "It hurt too much. Oh and then my mum said I wasn't allowed any more."

"You're a funny one you are," the older nurse laughed.

"I try."

On the top ten interesting things that had happened that day, the Matron closing the window Butler had just asked to be opened and slipping on the patch of water that the melted snow had formed as it dripped in, was definitely in the top three. Quite a hilarious occurrence in Butler's opinion. Not, however, in hers. Apparently, the reason for cutting off any link to the outside world, was in case by some miracle he could wriggle out of the cuffs and squeeze through it. Cuffs? Maybe, if he was really desperate. But even he wasn't going to try to fit through a window that small, especially with the way his stomach would react to any sort of pressure at the moment. No, the plan he'd been stewing over involved smashing said window with the chair by the bed and then seeing whether there was some sort of soft landing spot below. The snow should help with that part. And if there wasn't anywhere soft? Well depending on the situation he could probably jump anyway...

_You could use the matress,_ his mental Juliet suggested.

_Yeah, because that would be clever,_ he snorted back._ Jumping from a three-story building with only the aid of a matress. Don't be daft._

_More sensible than just plain jumping_, she retorted.

Butler was glad he had a version of Jules to snap him out of going insane. He considered that statement. _OK, definitely time to get out of here_.

Three to five visiting time came and went in the strict timetable of hospital life and still no-one came into his room but the Matron and a few other nurses. All he could see from the bed was the snow hitting the window and a few bedraggled and frozen looking birds making their way across the sky. The blizzard stopped as darkness came but clouds still roiled in the orange stained heavens.

A solitary helicopter buzzed irritatingly across the window, searchlight blazing a stripe through the gloom. Butler found himself wondering whether whatever unfortunate crook running below it, was worth the diesel it took to get the bird in the air. He could make out a clock through the reinforced glass pane in the door. Those with worse eyesight might not have been able to watch every second tick by, but the eyes of a trained, and currently very bored, soldier watched the thin red line jitter closer to the next chance of interaction. And, hopefully, freedom.

Then, bang on seven o'clock, his uncle, sister and charge entered the room.

"Hello," Butler said smiling. "Long time no see, eh?"

"You're feeling better I see," The Major said dryly, closing the door behind them and filling the glass gap with his huge frame so no-one, least of all the nosy nurses would be able to oversee the meeting.

"I felt better yesterday," Butler protested trying to see past his sister as she hugged him.

"Good. Because I think you will be doing some light exercise later."

"Great," muttered Butler, quiet enough for his uncle not to hear him. As he thought about it, he realised he wasn't being entirely sarcastic. The sooner he got out of this place the better. It wasn't just his mind that needed re-sharpening.

For the full hour they stayed and talked to him. Filling him in on what was happening in the outside world whilst Artemis fiddled with the needle in Butler's arm, switching the valve to 'closed' and so cutting off the steady drip of the painkiller/sedative supply. Pain and lack of sleeping-drug would get his bodyguard up and at 'em and back to normal.

"Anything happened since..." Butler tried to remember how many days ago it had been. "This happened?" he decided on.

"Not in that manner, no. I've been keeping an eye on things..." The Major answered.

"You'd think..." Butler frowned.

"Yes, you would wouldn't you?" The Major said thoughtfully.

Within the cryptic conversation was held a message. _Why would whoever wanted to get at the Fowls, not try their luck again with one Butler down? What were they waiting for? Or had they given up? Why wait until he was back again? Unless they didn't expect him to be up so quickly?_ Either way it set both men's teeth on edge. Especially the one tied to a bed. Artemis and his family could be in danger whilst some well-meaning idiots encouraged the bodyguard to sit on his arse all day and _rest_.

"One's out as far as I know."

"So I've heard. No sign of him yet though and the police are working too closely with the rest of them for me to get a look in at the moment," The Major seemed more than a little annoyed at that fact.

There was an uncomfortable silence. It was Juliet, as usual, who broke it.

"Me and Arty are missing you," she admitted. "Uncle doesn't wheel spin at traffic lights as often as you do."

Butler bit his lip. _Probably not the best conversation starter there, sis._

The Major looked rather disapprovingly at his nephew, at least until Juliet realised what she had said and corrected her mistake.

"Although you did a great one earlier when that idiot was sticking to your bumper, Uncle."

The Major grunted and muttered something about "Some daft teenagers blaring some obnoxious noise."

For the first time all day, Butler smiled properly.

"Now," Artemis said, quietly and conspiratorily. "This is the plan..."

Visiting time was over too quickly for any of their likings, but when the Matron appeared to shoo the three free members of the group away, they left without incident.

She seemed even more suspicious at that, but at least she didn't jab her patient with another load of sedative. That might have disrupted the smooth running of _The Plan_, as Artemis called it. He always got that excited spark in his eyes when he was plotting. It was what he did best, and for a budding genius, that was saying something.

Butler stretched out as best he could. _Not long now. _In this grand plan, his role was to do...well nothing really. An unusual and unsettling role for someone who normally found himself in the middle of the action.

Strangely he felt more uneasy than if it was him doing all the work.

This time, all he had to do was wait.

And wait...

And wait...

And wait...

* * *

_Hospital Foyer Phonebox - Earlier_

"Tell me the good news," the voice on the other end of the line snapped.

"Afraid there's none to tell. I'm the only one still walking after that guy you said was harmless took us all out."

"I told you to stay away from the blue-diamond."

"We did. He left with Fowl before we got there. We fuh... We messed up. Ended up with the son and wife."

"You have them?" the voice was excited. He could get his revenge on Fowl yet.

"No. I already told you. There was another one of those Butler guys and he completely decimated everyone. Heaton's gonna be on crutches for months the docs say..."

"And the guy, the other diamond? What happened to him?" A plan was forming in the other's mind.

"He's in a different ward. One of us cut him up pretty bad..."

"He's still there now?"

"As far as I know..." the man said. A short silence. He decided to ask the all important question. "When are we getting paid?"

"You're not," Came the answer. "And if I hear from you and your pathetic bunch of mobsters again I'll have you killed, you hear?"

The ex-boss didn't wait for an answer before he cut the call.

The recently un-hospitalised gang member shrugged. Judging by his own team's success he didn't have much to worry about about being killed by this particular assassination orderer.

That other guy though... the man shivered slightly in the December wind.

Very unwilling to meet up with Butler or indeed any of his friends or family, the attempted murderer left the hospital quickly. He'd pass round the message later. At least they'd learnt something from this botched job. Don't mess with a blue-diamond.

* * *

In a cheap motel half way across the country, the man behind the unsuccessful attack scratched his chin thoughtfully. Of course, the ideal result would have been the Fowls paying a ransom. That would return a little of the fortune the bastard had stolen from his master. And, of course, get himself in the master's good books for when he got out.

The plan was simple. A wave of frustration shot through him. The _idiots_.

Kidnap Fowl. If that failed? Kill 'em all.

Simple.

But of course it hadn't worked like that, had it? Why? All because of a _sodding_ blue-diamond.

The man either couldn't see or simply discounted his own vengeance fuelled stupidity as the cause of the failed attack. As far as he was concerned, Fowl must be punished.

The man took a long draught from his bottle of unbranded alcohol. It tasted like petrol but he was past the point of caring. Fowl had sent his employer and his job down the pan.

But now he'd been given a second chance at getting his own back. And this time, he'd do it properly. So there was two diamonds to begin with. Now there was one again. He was no worse of then when he started. Except for the essence of surprise. Yes, he had certainly lost that.

In which case, it was time to call in the professionals.

He took out his mobile, scrolling through the numbers.

Fowl was going to pay.

* * *

**Dun, dun, dun!**

**Sorta another filler chapter. **

**You'll have to wait a tiny bit longer for the great escape.**

**Sorry 'bout that an all, **

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	7. A Dash Or Two

**Thanks to: Steinbock and Beckett Simpleton, as usual, you two are ace. **

**Special mention to Silver Curse because when I got up this morning there was a grand total of 12 emails in my inbox, and of those emails 11 were from FanFic, one was from my buddy BS and the other 10 were from Silver Curse pretty much faving and alerting all my fics including this one. So thanks :)**

**Two kinds of dash in this not enormous chappie. **

**It's great escape time. Enjoy.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 7 - A Dash or Two **

Butler hadn't slept. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins instead of the tranquilliser and if anyone else had been in the room he would have driven them insane with his incessant foot tapping.

He glanced at the luminous watch his uncle had left him for the umpteenth time. He'd turned it round twice to stop himself squeezing the light-up button and watching the seconds fade away.

**1 : 57 : 36 AM**, it read.

That meant he had seventeen minuets and twenty four seconds left to sit and do nothing for the last time in a long time.

Not that he was counting.

Butler had another go at slipping the cuffs to pass the time. No doubt Artemis's plan would work, but just in case...

A shadow passed his door and he closed his eyes, feigning sleep was easy after the past couple of days. Risking a glance, he refrained from waving jovially at the unattractive face that filled the door window and waited.

Fifteen minuets later, he watched as all of a sudden the Matron rushed, in the calm controlled manner that all members of the public service were taught to rush, past his door to what he suspected would be the nurse's toilets.

Butler smirked. Laxatives in her coffee. Clichéd, yes, but reliable.

_Serves her right, _he thought.

There was a rattling at his door, a much nicer phizog peering in at him. She waved, and less than a minute later and a young boy and girl entered the room.

"Quickly, now. You do that side," hissed Artemis, handing Juliet a key to open the cuffs. "We only have approximately eight more minutes."

The clattering was horribly loud in the machined silence of the hospital ward, but in wasn't long later that Butler was stood up flexing his wrists. His head throbbed at being seven foot up for the first time in a few hours, but his legs thanked him for it.

"That's better, thanks."

"Let's run. Uncle has some spare clothes for you," Juliet said, wasting no time in snatching the watch off the side with one hand and dragging her brother from the room by his with the other. The sore one actually, a fact Butler didn't bother to mention.

Each door they passed was a door closer to escape. At least until harsh footsteps alerted them to someone coming.

"Hide!" Juliet hissed. In the present company, under one of the beds would not have been a feasible option. Butler glanced around. Hopefully the solid door to their left was to somewhere quite big and equally unused.

He opened it... and a broom cupboard beckoned.

Deciding that there wasn't really another choice, Butler grabbed his two charges by the shoulders and pushed them into their makeshift hiding place.

"Come on, in here."

They bundled into the tiny room, Butler's head pressed against the ceiling and the other two pressed against him. A mop clattered into one of the walls and they froze, but the shoes clacked away into the distance.

It was then they realised the cupboard didn't have a handle on the inside.

If he had been with anybody else Butler might have sworn loudly. As it was, he just burst out laughing.

"Could this get any better?" Juliet sniggered.

"Maybe if we simply apply pressure to the lock it would release," Artemis began, trying to find the break in the outline of the door that would indicate where _exactly _that was. "If not I have your picks here Butler, The Major thought they might come in useful."

_Good old prepared-for-anything Uncle_, Butler thought.

"Could you step back a bit please?" Artemis asked.

It was very cramped in the cupboard and there was a shuffling as the two Butlers pressed themselves against the back wall. The elder one's shoulder pushed against something and the shelf behind them fell on the little company, disinfectants sloshing in their plastic jugs but thankfully not escaping.

"I'm sorry I spoke," Juliet groaned.

"Hang on," Butler, shrugged past his sister and braced a foot on the door. "Stand back a sec."

The children flattened themselves against either wall to give him enough space. Bracing his back against the wall, taking care to avoid putting more holes in himself with the ex-shelf brackets, he bent his knee into his stomach - _ouch_ - and gave the door a good kick.

The door groaned and the hinges popped but the door stayed put.

"Not sure that worked, bro," Juliet sniggered.

"Patience is a virtue..." he muttered, lining up his bare foot at another pressure point.

"Yeah, yeah. Virtue is a grace, Grace is a little girl who wouldn't wash her face," Juliet recited.

"Grace?" Artemis frowned. "Am I familiar with this person?"

"It's just a saying, Arty," Juliet assured him.

Thankfully, it didn't take more than another two boots to fell the door and the trio tumbled into the corridor, slipping on the tiles and tripping on the debris that followed them from the cupboard in a tsunami of cleaning products that clattered, shattered, and generally made a lot of noise as they fell, to the floor.

"Let's go - someone will _definitely_ have heard that."

They left the ward running, on the way to meet The Major by, as Juliet put it, 'some stairs with the red ward numbers at the bottom'.

It was an uncomfortable experience for Butler. Not the running, the stitches weren't turning out to be too much trouble, but trusting that these two to know where they were going... lets just say he'd rather have had a squint at the blueprints himself. Or at least a simple hospital map.

After only three wrong turns they stumbled down a set of stone steps to the sight they'd been hoping to see at the bottom of the last two flights.

The man's head snapped up at the sound of their arrival, quietly bickering siblings and the click of his charge's son's shoes.

"Put these on," he muttered, glancing up and down the corridor uneasily.

Butler caught the thrown jacket and trousers and shoved them on over the hospital pyjamas. The Major de-laced a pair of boots while he waited and his nephew jammed his feet into them.

"Ready?" Artemis asked.

Had one of his family asked him, he would probably snorted and answered: 'I was born ready' or at least 'I've been ready for days' but as it was he just nodded and the group set off at a swift walk.

They were a good way towards the exit when a porter's trolley trundled past at the far end and two of them shrunk back into the shadows on instinct. The other two froze like rabbits, but luckily the man just carried on his whistling into the distance.

"Let's move," The Major took his hand off his gun and they set off again.

"Where's the car?" Butler asked as they sped walked closer to freedom. Artemis struggled to keep up with their long strides and as a result was subject to being towed by Juliet into an almost-jog.

"Round the corner," The Major glanced around suspiciously again as they came to a T-junction. "Couldn't risk CCTV picking us up before we got in."

Butler nodded. It made sense really.

Automatic doors slid open almost silently and they stepped out into the cold night air, the first breath searing their lungs as though it were super-heated rather than freezing. Butler savoured it, breathing out heavily in a _huff _and enjoying the cloud of dampness that appeared in front of him. The cold, fresh, natural air was a welcome change from the dry, scented, lukewarm stuff he'd been choking on the past few days. But now wasn't the time to enjoy his freedom, and before he could take a second gulp they were jogging off into the night.

Thankfully, The Major had parked the Fowl's second-best Bentley quite close, or else Artemis might not have made it without help more help than the youngest Butler dragging him behind like a skier on a high-speed button lift over the snow. As it was, they made it to the vehicle, which was concealed behind a skip, without incident.

Butler looked up at the walls of windows. He had no idea which one had been his. Nor did he care. He slid into the seat and ducked to avoid smacking his head as his uncle drove them over the speed-bumps slightly too speedily.

"Mission successful," Juliet raised a palm to Artemis.

After a moment of doing nothing Artemis nodded, confused.

"You're supposed to slap it, genius. Like this," Juliet demonstrated, sighing. Artemis did so tentatively. "You know, for a clever kind of person, Artemis, you really do know nothing."

"That was awful grammar, Juliet," Artemis sniffed aloofly. "My plan for Butler's escape worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but it wouldn't have worked without me..."

Butler let the good-natured arguing wash over him. In a way, The Major wasn't driving him home. As long as he was in the present company, he was already home.

* * *

_Back at the Hospital _

It wasn't long before Butler's room was checked and the alarm raised, but by then they were long gone.

The Matron emerged from the ladies room just a few minuets after the doors slid shut behind them.

_Must've been that sea-food platter I had last night,_ she justified.

Then she saw the mess of equipment scattered over the corridor.

Her hand flew to her key-chain.

Storming down the corridor, she found the set of keys hanging in the lock of the door to...

...a completely empty room.

_Not possible_, she thought striken._ It's **impossible**_.

She turned on the lights, checking the whole area, even under the bed in her desperation, before she finally pressed her alarm button, already knowing it was too late.

On the bed, the open cuffs winked mockingly at her in the halogen lights.

So it wasn't impossible. Well, you couldn't say he didn't warn her.

She swore unprofessionally.

* * *

**This one nearly got called Dashing Through The Snow but all the dashing about wasn't just in snow so you know...**

**Ha ha the daft old bat got her comeuppance in the end. **

**Butler almost left a note, but that would just have been cruel.**

**So, anyway,**** he's out.**

**That's the end of it all, right? **

**Well... maybe not.**

**(That was my attempt at getting you to stick around by the way)**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O **


	8. Whys and Wires

**Argh OK this explains a liddle bit of what's going on for you all, but not everything. But hey, it's Christmas Eve Eve and you know, tomorrow is the final, wrap up, ta da, but still-with-a-chunk-of-action chapter.**

**As usual, thanks to Beckett Simpleton and Steinbock, my trusty reviewers and to Readergirl99 who always gives me a smile.**

**On with it then.**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 8 - Whys and Wires**

The Bentley crunched over the gravel, security light illuminating the driveway as they pulled up alongside the Manor.

"Do they know we've gone?" Butler asked, stepping out of the car and automatically holding the door open for Artemis.

"I think we're about to find out," The Major muttered grimly.

Butler turned in time to see the ground illuminate in a bright rectangle.

"Artemis!" A shriek came from the doorway where a figure dressed in flowing silk was framed by the light from the kitchen.

_Oh heck_, thought Butler. Or words to that effect.

"Where have you been? It's the middle of the night! How could you just leave without telling me? And you, Major? You took him?" She asked these questions in a high pitched babble that threatened to wake the rest of the household.

"Ah... Mother..." Artemis began placatingly.

"Don't you '_ah...mother'_ me young man!" she cried indignantly. "Where have you... oh!"

She spotted Butler by the limo and held a hand to her mouth.

"As you can see, Mother. I assisted with the release of Butler. I didn't think you would approve so I didn't ask permission," Artemis explained.

"Well..." Angeline still seemed understandably put out. "Not that I'm not glad you're all home safe but I do rather wish you'd tell me before you go off on these adventures..."

"A trip to the hospital is hardly an adventure, Mother," Artemis sighed.

"Well I think it constitutes as one when the excursion is at some ungodly hour of the morning with the purpose to illegally break out your bodyguard, Arty," Angeline frowned, but the hysteria had passed. "Well I suppose you'd best come in before you all catch your death of cold... Are those pyjamas, Butler?"

Butler glanced down at his open jacket at the stripy material. He decided to risk exercising his sense of humour. "Not the expected attire of an intrepid adventurer, I realise, m'am, but the wardrobe department is on a tight budget at the moment."

The Major shot him a warning look, but Mrs. Fowl let out a tinkling laugh and led them all inside without further comment.

Over a cup of tea, made by The Major of course, it was doubtful that the lady of the house even knew how to use a kettle properly, Artemis and Juliet quickly retold the night's events, neglecting to mention the incident with the storage cupboard and editing out most of the running on dangerously slippy hospital tiles.

"Well that certainly sounds like an adventure to me," Angeline said, finishing her cup and placing it on the side. "Now if you excuse me, I will return to my bed and I recommend you all do the same."

She left to a chorus of 'good night's and paused at the doorway. "Oh and Butler? Feel free to take tomorrow off your duties, not that we haven't missed your presence but if you don't feel up to working I entirely understand..."

"Thank-you Missus Fowl, but if it's all the same with you I would like to start work on the car tomorrow as soon as possible."

"Well if you're sure..." she didn't look too surprised, he was a Butler after all.

Artemis followed his mother soon after, and then The Major, muttering about three and a half hours rest before he had to get up. The Butler siblings followed their uncle up the stairs.

"Have you had a glance at the car yet?" Butler asked him as they reached the landing.

"A glance yes," The Major grunted. "Not much though. I've been a bit busy following up that gang, actually."

"And...?"

"Well, unsurprisingly not many talked. Seemed to recognise me somewhat and that loosened the tongues of some and made the others clam up. Something to do with being half-beaten to death by someone who looked like me apparently..."

"I wonder who that might've been?" Juliet said innocently as she passed them on her way to her room. Her brother smirked, taking the veiled compliment from his uncle, the only kind of praise he'd ever known him to give out. As Juliet vanished upstairs the talk turned to darker issues.

"So... still no sign of... anything?"

"No. Not a peep. It's more worrying than something happening, to be honest," The Major admitted. "And usually there's some sort of clue as to who it was."

"Well we know they're probably and idiot and most likely an amateur at ordering assassinations. Whoever it was didn't do their research."

"What I would like to know is what has he done to deserve death this time."

"Nothing's sticking out in my mind recently," Butler shrugged.

"Which means it must have been a while ago, so why not take the time to plan it properly."

"Unless it's all a cover for something bigger..."

"Well if it is, I'd rather it happened now I'm back, or preferably not at all," Butler said firmly.

His uncle grunted something that sounded suspiciously like an agreement.

"Another issue for tomorrow," The Major said, turning to leave. "I've put your stuff in your room," he added.

"Nothing got seized at the hospital?" Butler asked surprised, well aware that the usual turn of events once his "stuff" was unearthed by the authorities. And the amount of effort it took to get it all back.

"Well... let's just say that they're there now," his uncle smirked and gave Butler a very good idea of how his belongings came to be back in his bedroom.

"Thanks, Uncle."

"Well I know how sentimental you get about that ruddy gun..."

"Hypocrite," Butler muttered, thinking of a certain gun his uncle had had since before even Artemis Senior was born.

"Humph. Yes. Well, good night," The Major muttered avoidingly.

Butler snorted in amusement and headed to his room, thoughts buzzing around his head. So there'd been no more from the gang - or the people who sent the gang. Butler was far too experienced on the world of business backstabbing and assassination attempts to honestly believe he'd scared them off.

Least he would sleep better tonight with his weapons close to hand.

As he passed his sister's room he noticed the light was still on. He knocked on the door gently.

"Jules?"

"What?"

"S'me. You decent?"

"Yeah, cause I normally dance around my room naked," she muttered.

The gargantuan form of her brother ducked into the doorway.

"Thought I'd come and be the big softy that I am and say night."

"That's ok."

Butler sat on the edge of the bed.

"I was worried about you," she told him.

"What? A bit of blood and a few stitches and you start worrying? Come on Jules, you know me better than that."

"Yeah but still..."

"What have I told you, hmm? Don't get yourself all worked up on my behalf. I can look after myself."

"I know, just not very well by the looks of it."

"I'm fine," Butler shrugged. "Honest."

She poked him quite considerably hard in the stomach and he had to pretend to be in agony to hide the fact that she genuinely _had_ hit a sore spot with enough force to make him want to swear rather loudly.

"Uh-hmm. Your _honest_ is about as reliable as your _fine_, Dom," she raised an eyebrow at him disapprovingly.

"Well it's a good job I'm an honest person then," he said.

Juliet snorted. "Yeah right. Shut up or I'll poke you again."

Butler was fairly sure she meant it and laughed, stepping out of arms-reach.

"Night then, Mr. Honestly-I'm-Fine- I'm-just-lying-out-of-my-ar..."

"Jules," her brother said warningly.

"...mpit!" she finished innocently.

Her brother '_hmm_ed' unconvinced.

"Night big bro," she laughed, snuggling under the covers.

"Night night lil' sis," he said, closing the door.

He pushed open his own door quietly. There on the bed in a neat folded pile were the clothes he'd been wearing on the night. The jacket was salvageable if he gave the splattered parts a good scrub, trousers too if he was lucky. The shirt was in shreds and Butler found himself wondering what has happened to the taxi man and the blanket he'd "borrowed" from the car. He'd ask tomorrow. He chucked the clothes distinctly less neatly onto the floor, souvenirs of the whole event. Next laid out on the bed was his infamous set of kit. He quickly stashed his knives and the rest of his tools of the trade in their proper places around his room and finally picked up his Sig Sauer. He was surprised to find that a wave of calm washed over him at the simple action.

Deciding that having an emotional attachment to a hunk of murderous metal that had saved his life many times fitted in perfectly with the definition of _normal_ in his life, he skipped the getting changed part of his normal routine and got into bed fully dressed. He could finally get out of these ridiculous pyjamas tomorrow.

He slid the gun to its rightful place and shuffled under the covers, stretching his arms in relief from the cuffs.

3 hours sleep. It'd do.

* * *

"You understand, I am paying you a great deal of money for this to be done properly," the voice hissed menacingly.

"Of course, we are considerably more professional than the last people you hired, Mr. Gordon."

"You'd better be."

The man rolled his eyes at the clichéd threat. "How many guards?"

"Overnight? As far as I know just the one diamond left. Take a couple of guns and..."

"Diamond?" the man knew full well what Gordon was on about but pushing his buttons was far too amusing to pass up.

"Yes, a blue one."

"I thought we were bagging a guy not a jewel..."

"No! Idiot! The man. A genuine blue diamond holder. It's a tattoo. There was two of 'em but one of them is definitely down."

More serious now, the man being hired wrapped up the deal. "One serious guard to deal with, kidnap or kill Artemis Fowl Senior whichever is... _easier _I believe you said. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Any ideas on how we get in."

"That's what I'm paying you for." The call ended abruptly.

The hire-ee shut his mobile in disgust. _In through the garage,_ he mused. _Usually a weak spot._ _After getting into the grounds, of course._

The man flipped open his phone again.

_Now who do I know with a set of ladders? Or a maybe a cherrypicker..._

_

* * *

_

The next morning Artemis Fowl Senior did a double take when he saw the _younger_ Butler with his head buried deep in the engine of the broken Bentley.

"Good morning, sir," Butler said stopping what he was doing so Mr. Fowl could inspect the engine. Not that he would have any idea what he was looking for - a fact both of them were well aware of. No way was The Major going to trust his charge around the car after the last time he'd tried his hand at a spot of mechanics.

"Good to see you," Artemis said raising his eyebrows. "I can't say I expected you to be back so soon."

"Yes, sir," Butler said, almost smiling, accepting the statement as a compliment.

"Well. Try not to land yourself in there again."

"I'll do my best, sir," Butler assured him, wondering whether Mr. Fowl knew the whole story. He probably did, but Fowls could never fully appreciate what the Butler family did for them.

"Good. Yes, good..." The head of the Fowl empire walked back to his manor, muttering to himself. Butler rolled his eyes and went back to looking for the problem. In the light of day it was easy to see what was wrong.

_They won't be getting paid for this job_, thought Butler, thinking of the men supposed to abduct Mr. Fowl, the same ones he himself had put into various states of hospitalisation. He half chuckled, holding up the two pieces of electric cord. How a few cut wires could cause so much trouble...

* * *

**Alright, I could end it there but the next one is the last one just wrapping stuff up... excitingly of course ;)**

**Thanks for sticking with me this far,**

**Wolfy  
ooo  
O**


	9. A Painfully Happy Ending

**So here it is, but it's going out with a bang... or at least some strange noises anyway. I don't know where I got the sardines simile from...**

**FINAL THANKS LIST:**

**In no particular order, _Cheers_ to:**

**_Beckett Simpleton _**

**_Steinbock_**

_**Readergirl99**_

_**CieloCrimisi **_

_**mischievous101**_

**for the reviews.**

**And a big Ta too, to everyone else who Faved, Alerted or even if you just read along in the background.**

**Right, enough waffling on.**

**Here it is, the final chapter. Hopefully with everything you want from a finale chappie. A Fight-Scene, Answers and of course a Happy Ending... sort of.**

**On with it. **

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 9 - A Painfully Happy Ending**

Butler lay down on the bed more gingerly tonight. As much as he pulled the hard-man act, the slice out of his stomach bloody well _hurt_. He bore it for a few minuets. Madam Ko would call him a wuss, but then again, she wasn't here to take the rip out of him. And she also told him to use anything he had. And just downstairs there was some heavy duty painkiller. Butler swung out of bed and padded down the corridor.

Now, for an ordinary person with a set task fixed in their semi-conscious brain, this would have been a quick trip to the kitchen and back again. Although it may have turned out to be a one way trip in this situation.

Butler was casually wandering down the hallway, trying to remember how many pills he should be taking to avoid under or overdosing himself, and also the prospect of turning the light on to read the label. His head was not up for that kind of change in lighting tonight. Luckily, _casually_ for a Butler is not _casually_ for a normal person and so, when a shadow passed the window and the outside security light flared into being, he slunk into the darkness out of sight and wrapped his hand around the gun in his waistband, glad that he hadn't relented to Juliet's constant teasing about him being paranoid.

_Now what?_ Was the thought that ran through his head.

_Protect the manor,_ his trained side answered simply.

_Fair enough._

He slid along the wall and into the kitchen. A noise like a very large tin of sardines being peeled open was filtering through the walls from the direction of the garage.

_Definitely not just a cat then._

He flipped a protective case on something similar to a fire-alarm button and pressed it firmly, knowing that his Uncle would awake with a start and be downstairs in a few seconds. Judging by the noise of the garage door being forced open manually, he didn't have _a few seconds._

Crossing the kitchen cautiously he placed a hand on the handle to the adjoining side door to the garage, it dipped slightly under the weight. It was already unlocked.

_Definitely not good. _

Fervently hoping that it was a once in a lifetime slip-up from his uncle and already knowing it wasn't, Butler toyed with going back to check the hallway he'd just come from. A noise on the other side of the door told him there wasn't much time until he had more than one intruder to deal with. He could only hope that if there was anyone in the main manor that shouldn't be, The Major would catch them. Meanwhile, anything could be happening on the other side of the door, including something potentially explosive.

He made his decision, hoping it was the right one, and slipped into the garage.

It was dark, but for a horizontal bar of light from the outside. A dark form rolled through the gap under the garage roller-door, waving a torch around. Butler used the Hummer as cover he crept towards the intruder. He dropped to the floor, press-up position and promptly winced at the strain of stitches.

Despite the irritation, he was now low enough to look under the rows of various assorted cars that hardly ever got used. Silhouetted against the security light's glare he counted five pairs of legs dotted around the immediate vicinity. Four of them inside, scattered about some closer than others and then one still keeping watch outside.

OK. Five was good. Five he could probably handle, even in his present state. As long as his uncle turned up fast enough. Which wasn't currently happening.

_Come on where are you?_ Butler didn't want to start something he couldn't finish if it meant then leaving the manor, and everyone else in it, open to attack. He commando crawled forward.

And quite suddenly a gun was pressed into the back of his neck. He froze.

He'd definitely not heard them coming, which meant one of two things. He was either really tired and the hospital stay had left him a little rusty, or... the gun was removed from his neck and he was half lifted upright by the back of the shirt.

"What are you doing?" his uncle hissed.

Butler wanted to ask him the same thing. What kind of imposter would turn up to burgle the manor in pyjamas? Seriously?

Instead he signed in the semi-darkness.

_Three, close by. One, front of garage. One, outside._

The Major nodded signing a tactical circling manoeuvre. Butler nodded. Made sense really. He got fully to his feet silently and slunk round the rear of the car. They had the advantage, maybe not in numbers, but in experience and knowledge of the area.

Not wanting to use his gun in such close proximity to the expensive vehicles, or his uncle, Butler snagged a set of jump leads from the rack. Plan of attack already forming in his mind, he chose a target.

Creeping up on the guy should have been the easier part of the assault, unfortunately, the complete annihilation of one's team-mate tends to alert one of the possibility of an enemy presence. As The Major knocked one intruder to the floor, Butler's own mark span on the spot just in time to see the bodyguard's fist collide with his face. Not a nice way to end up, but at least unconsciousness was more or less immediate. The remainder of the group were not as easily defeated. The man from outside noticed the commotion and joined his fellows as they formed a defensive semi-circle, guns drawn. The two Butlers copied the move.

"Shoot and we shoot," one shouted. In the second it took him to do so, the two larger men had ducked behind the rows of cars. Luckily, good night-vision ran in the family and they could both see their enemies perfectly well in the gloom. The same couldn't be said for the aforementioned enemies.

"Where'd they go?"

"Just stay low and be on your guard..."

The younger Butler caught his uncle's attention and lobbed one end of the set of leads towards him. A rare flicker of amusement appeared in his elder's eyes as he caught it. No communication was needed as the pair stretched the leads taught and sprinted forward.

The only warning was a slight scraping noise as the leads slid over the top of the cars. Possibly scratching them, but they had bigger problems right now.

"Can you hear...?" One began, before: "Akk!"

He didn't finish his sentence as the cables hit him in the throat, knocking him backwards and smacking his head off the bonnet of the nearest car.

The two on the ends ducked and managed to avoid capture but the middle one got thoroughly tangled in the cables and threw himself about on the floor trying to free himself until The Major ended the man's role in the fight with a quick nerve-cluster jab. He barely had time to smile about that when the bullets started firing.

_Please don't hit the cars,_ The Major prayed and then added as an afterthought. _Or us._

Well, humans heal themselves for free.

The bullets didn't last for long, in the darkness someone shot someone, and the yell of pain definitely wasn't his nephew's echoed through the garage. The sound of weakness drew him in like a true predator and The Major leapt in to finish off the injured man.

The younger Butler was grappling with the one who had dived under the jammed open door. He'd been armed, but the gun quickly clattered to the floor and the fight turned to fists. The man panicked, thrashing more violently and Butler finally missed a block that resulted in a punishing blow to the stomach. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't have been a problem. Today however, it was.

Still, instead of dropping to the ground in agony like was expected, Butler managed to shove the guy backwards. The unfortunate man tripped and landed flat on his back, winded, but before Butler could grab him he scooted backwards and rolled under one of the higher-wheeled cars. The Major slid over a car bonnet towards the man who threw himself under the door, kicking the jack they'd used to crank open the door away in a desperate escape attempt. The roller-door screeched down an inch or two, but The Major caught it before it hit the floor and heaved it upwards. Butler jumped to help but his uncle shook his head.

"Can you fit under?"

Knowing exactly what he meant, the younger bodyguard dropped to the floor and heaved the metal up another centimetre or so off the ground with his shoulder.

"Can you catch him?" The Major asked, panting slightly under the strain of keeping the garage door from crushing his nephew.

"Let's see," Butler growled, squeezing under the door - _big ouch_- and setting off like an Olympic sprinter.

The man was almost at the end of the drive and turned to see the giant bearing down on him like a steam-train. He headed for the gates, trying to outrun his pursuer long enough to climb them.

To be fair he didn't have much of a chance.

Butler made a flying leap, regardless of his stitches and caught the man by the shoulders, weight and momentum forcing his prey to his knees and ending them both face first in the gravel just meters from the wrought iron gateway. The intruder tried hopelessly to get back to his feet.

"Stop struggling or I _will _break something," Butler snarled.

The man lay very still very quickly.

Butler waited a few seconds to control his breathing before hauling the guy upright and frog-marching his hostage back to the garage. Bare feet and gravel were not the most pleasant of combinations, but students at Madam Ko's Academy trained barefoot for the majority of the time they were there and a few stones had nothing on the hot coals and broken glass he'd calmly walked over before.

His uncle had managed to open the door electrically by the time they got back to the scene of the fight.

"I see you've still got it," The Major said, accidently allowing a hint of pride to slip into his voice.

"Same to you," Butler raised an eye-brow; The Major already had five men lined up in plastic cuffs. "What took you so to get down here?" Butler counted the men as he spoke. _That's odd._

"There was another one in the hall. You must've missed him."

Butler actually felt a shiver pass over him. So they did get in through the door. Apparently the guy had missed him too; else things might've been a lot worse.

The first aid kit was open on the floor and The Major checked on the shot man again, handing him a wad of material to keep compression over the wound. The man looked surprised and took it nervously.

"Just a glancing leg shot. He'll be fine," The Major relayed, before adding to the man himself: "Keep pressure on that."

The injured man nodded, uncertain how to react. "Um... Thanks."

The Major shrugged, he'd been in a similar position before and besides, a little nicety often meant no bad feelings later, which certainly helped when interrogating and even later, once the men finally got released. He'd had entirely enough of vengeance attacks. Well, for this year at least.

Turning to the conscious man he'd caught, Butler asked the questions he'd been wondering since spotting the shadow cross the window. "Who are you and what do you want?"

The guy didn't seem willing to speak so Butler tried a different tack. "OK. Tell me who you are and why you're here and you won't get hurt."

That loosened his tongue. "What do you think we're here for?"

"Not helpful," Butler bent the man's arm up his back. Tendons creaked.

"OK, OK to finish the job, alright?"

"Ah ha," The Major nodded. "Were you involved in the other night?"

"Not directly," the man mumbled moodily.

The Major raised an eyebrow. "Continue."

"The same bloke that wants you all dead sent the others too."

Both bodyguards could think of several competitors who might want to take a swing at Fowl Senior.

"So who sent you?"

"I can't say."

"Can't or won't?"

The man looked decidedly nervous. "I...ah..."

The Major stared at him, coal black eyes drilling into the man's own gaze. "It would be better for you if you tell us what you know."

The man swallowed. "A man called Gordon sent us. He organised a gang to capture Fowl at the party, but when they failed they sent us instead. They didn't order us the first time because they're low on money as far as we know."

"Who's we?"

"Um... us, we're a squad thrown together to kidnap Fowl. Or kill him. Whichever turned out easier," the man gestured at his bound comrades. The Butlers continued to stare so the man changed the subject rapidly. "Do you know a guy - last name of Gordon? Dunno his first, but he seemed pretty sure he wanted a guy with a blue diamond tat' dead."

"Sounds like someone wanted revenge."

Their prisoner cleared his throat. "All I know that this Gordon guy's boss is in prison for something and all I've been told is that they're strapped for cash now and it had something to do with Fowl. They paid rookies 'cause they'll do it for cheaper. Or at least try to."

"How did you get in?" That was an important question. The garage doors were clearly a weakness that needed to be fixed, but knowing where the chink in the manor's considerable boundary defences would be helpful.

"It wasn't easy I tell you. We had to vault the walls."

The Major nodded thoughtfully. He'd have to get motion sensors on the tops of those.

"Did you honestly expect we'd let you get to Fowl?" The Major asked incredulosly.

"Well we were told we had a chance. Didn't expect _him_ to be up so quick," the man jerked his head at his captor behind him.

Butler grinned. "Unlucky."

So at least this whole turn of events made a little sense now, they'd had their suspicions that the first gang of idiots had been anything but professionals, but why send a group like that if you were serious? Money seemed to be the cause of everything.

The Major cuffed the man and checked they weren't too tight.

"Well perhaps breaking in here wasn't one of your cleverest ideas, but speaking was," he hauled him out of Butler's grip and held him upright. "You'll be staying the night here. We'll decide what we're going to do with you tomorrow."

The man looked very glad he'd talked.

* * *

Once all six men were safely secured in the purpose built prisoner room, the pair of bodyguards sat at the kitchen table to decipher the man's ramblings.

"Gordon. The name sounds familiar," the elder started.

Butler nodded. "I know who he is. That Fortner's bodyguard."

His uncle frowned. "Fortner, eh? The housing developing company owner that Artemis sent bankrupt because of their plans to build on the outskirts of that patch of rainforest he bought for Angeline?"

"Yes. And the reason he didn't know about me the first time was..."

"Because you were on that building opposite causing trouble."

Butler smirked at the memory. The man called Gordon was definitely _not_ a blue diamond and had completely panicked under sniper fire. Butler hadn't even hit anyone. Purposefully, of course. If Fowl had wanted Fortner to be dead, it would have been all too easy.

_Scared was always better than dead._

"And now Fortner's locked up for breaching the rainforest protection agreement and Gordon's left with no money and an unhealthy hunger for a bit of revenge," The Major mused. "Idiot should have bided his time. Paid some professionals to take us out."

"Luckily for us he's a bit thick," Butler shrugged. "And twice that impatient."

The Major frowned at the wording but nodded. "I believe Juliet would pronounce the whole attempt as a _'fail'_."

Butler laughed at his uncle's attempt at the modern term. "What are we going to do about our guests?"

"I'll sort them out tomorrow. Send them packing with a message or something. Get the one with a hole in his leg to hospital."

"I s'pose we need to sort out that Gordon guy at some point."

"Obviously. You can trace him tomorrow and we'll show him how real professionals work."

Butler tried not to groan at the thought of trawling through information to find Gordon. Hopefully the man's defence was in the same league as his attack, that is to say, completely useless.

"Did your stitches hold?" The Major asked.

"As far as I know," Butler shrugged, realising he should probably check them.

"Good. As soon as you feel up to it you can get up on the top of the walls and put in some new motion sensors. Can't have something like this happening again."

"Definitely. And something tells me we need a new garage door."

"Another thing for tomorrow," The Major sighed.

Butler grunted an agreement. Of course they could make life a whole lot easier for themselves if they just delagated the jobs out to the Fowls' other employees, but both of them knew that neither of them would be happy unless they'd overseen the job themselves, so why not just do it themselves.

"Right. I'm off to bed. Another bloody broken night's rest," The Major grumbled.

"A good night's sleep is all you want for Christmas, eh, Uncle?"

"Something like that," he muttered, chucking a small item at his nephew.

Butler snatched it out of the air easily, ignoring the snap of pain from the second set of stitches. Reflexes were useful for more than just catching knives.

"Take those painkillers. I don't want you mincing around like an old woman with sciatica tomorrow."

"Yes, Uncle," Butler rolled his eyes at his uncle's receding back.

_Considering the night's events, one blessing is at least no-one else has been disturbed by them_, Butler mused as he turned off the lights and reset the alarms. Especially not his sister. He dreaded to think how Juliet would have reacted to finding the strangers. She'd probably have tried to help get rid of them and who knew how that would have turned out. She'd be gutted she _'missed out' _as he knew she'd put it, when she found out about it all tomorrow.

Halfway up the stairs he rolled the pot of painkillers in his hand, considering the pills rattling in the semi-transparent bottle.

_Nah, _he shrugged. _Who needs 'em?_

* * *

**Well thanks for reading guys. **

**I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. OK that was _more_ than a little cheesy. **

**Bottom line is, I hope you liked it and it wasn't a waste of your time reading it.**

**I dunno when I'll write again but until then, **

**MERRY CHRISTMAS **

**OR **

**SEASONS GREETINGS **

**OR **

**WHATEVER **

**AND HAVE A GREAT NEW YEAR!**

**Wolfy**

**ooo  
O**


End file.
